A Pillar In Crumbling Fields
by Children of the valar
Summary: "The Queen of Light took her bow, and then she turned to go, the Prince of Peace embraced the gloom, and walked the night alone. Oh, throw down your plow and hoe, Rest not to lock your homes. Side by side we wait the might of the darkest of them all."
1. So It Begins

Chapter 1: So it begins

Author's note:

Well, okay. We have been building and perfecting this story for probably two years now. We would very much like you to know that this is our first written fan fiction and that English isn't our first language (No matter how hard we wish it was). So if you find anything that could be improved, please let us know and we will gladly see to it.

Since crying over The Return Of The King, wonders have been blossoming in our heads... What in the valar's name happened to the characters?! Did Legolas see Aragorn again? How was Aragorn's life as a king (apart from his family and departure in the books)? What the heck did Thranduil do after renaming Eryn Lasgalen?! Anyways, all of this to tell you that we (high functioning fan girls that we are) decided to create our own version of events. Don't worry; there will be action, love, tears, death and a freaking amazing bad guy (That you probably already know Muahahaha).

Important information: This fan fiction happens 30 years after the events of The Lord Of The Rings. According to the books, Aragorn now is married to Arwen and has three children: A son and two daughters. Legolas, for his part, became lord of Ithilien and brought grace back into the shadow lands. For those who didn't know, he has heard the call of the sea. Gimli became lord of the glittering caves, where once was Helm's Deep. Thranduil rebuilt Mirkwood (now renamed Eryn Lasgalen) with Celeborn and there he remained.

We would like to thank the many authors that inspired us into finally writing this Fan fiction; Legolass Q (who wrote For The Love Of The Lord Of The White Tree), e1nav57 (who wrote Tales Of Mirkwood: Legolas and Tauriel), HelloDenmark (who wrote Coldness, Aid From A Friend, War Of Light And Darkness and Haven), Nightwing (who wrote To See A World), etc.

Also, you will probably notice that not much happens in the first chapters. Do not despair, it only serves in setting the context and the characters right. The next update might take some time, but all the ones after will be faster since the story will already be written. We are posting this first chapter to see the response of the readers.

Disclaimer: All the wonderful universe of Middle Earth is not ours but that of the wonderful writer J.R.R Tolkien. Some of the characters and the events that will be talked about are the wonderful creation of genius Peter Jackson (Although, some characters are, or partly are, our creation). Oh and by the way, even if you probably already know this, no money is made from this story.

PS: We are not Gollum... Simply two writers (sisters, actually). And don't worry... We read the books and studied them thoroughly (You can be sure it won't end up with Legolas and Aragorn doing some horny stuff while watching Thranduil beat the crap out of Gimli with a candle holder).

A Pillar In Crumbling Fields

Chapter 1: So it begins.

" _I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and people who will see a world that I shall never know._ "

J.R.R Tolkien

* * *

"... Although I do believe that if we are to trade with the dwarves, my lord, changes should be made concerning the communication techniques."

At this moment, if Legolas could have rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, he would without doubt have done it. He had been listening to his counselors' chatter for what had seemed like a lifetime, which appeared endless considering the long life spawn that his kin was given.

"I do agree with you, counselor Raumion, the ravens are indeed confusing. Their tongue is unknown to the ears of those who welcome their message."

And there it was again, a reason not to trade with the dwarves. Since his visit to The Glittering Caves and his appointment as Lord of Ithilien, Legolas had taken the decision to break the wall of hatred between his kin and thus of Durin. In other words, he had decided to trade with the people of his dear friend Gimli. Although, no matter how hard he tried, his counselors would always find any detail, as worthless as it could be, to make the task worthy of the courage of Beleg himself. It seemed that beyond the friendship of Legolas and Gimli, the two races were still reluctant to communicate with each other.

"Indeed, and if we are to use messengers, I am afraid that the dwarves would but slow us down. If we were to call for aid, this city would fall before their arrival." Said Raumion with obvious disgust in his voice.

"But this shall not be necessary," argued another "these are hard fought and well earned times of peace. I do not believe war will be upon us anytime soon."

"Peace is but an illusion, not only the Dark Lord can wage war against our forces." Raumion answered.

Ai valar, Legolas had the feeling of listening to his father's words once more. Then he remembered: thus he had not done in decades. In fact, he had not heard the voices of those he loved in a really long time. His duty of rebuilding Ithilien and moving his people to the forest had taken all his mind and time. And these he was wasting these two yet again listening to counselors who did not comprehend their lord's will.

Since his acquaintance with the world of the mortal, he began to understand the notion of time, and the knowledge that his best friends' years were counted made their passing distressing at times. He never counted time before. He used to simply follow the continuity of the earth and flow with its current. But when he met Aragorn, when he encountered mortals, it became different. Although, even if he had this knowledge, he could not say how long it had been since he had last seen his best friend... Or Thranduil, his own father, for the matter. He did miss Aragorn dearly and was eager to see him again. In fact, he had been since the moment he had left the white city.

The wedding of king Elessar, on the eve of his departure, truly had been majestic and enjoyed by all. Legolas had watched his friend in one of his purest moments of happiness, which made him feel the same. Tears had swelled in his companion's eyes as they did in his, and when the pair came face to face, they held tightly for much time, but that was not what took their breath away. All their desperate labors had finally brought the days of peace so highly desired, a new age of love, friendship and hope. After ages and ages passed at war, at fighting constantly, at bleeding from the arm of the enemy and shedding tears for loved ones lost... The light had finally taken over the shadows and the Dark Lord was defeated, washed away from Middle Earth forever like footsteps on the beach fading under the cold waltz of the waves...

The waves.

Those that were restlessly calling for him, whispering in his ears. And when he would but listen for a mere moment, he could almost hear a dangerously melodic euphony taking hold over his conscience and slowly attempting to drown him away from the world he knew. But he could not surrender to the whispers of his people. He could not because he had sworn... He had given his word and never did or never will break it... He had sworn...

"Hir nin Beriadan?"

Beriadan. Defender of men. Legolas had chosen it as the name representing him in his lordship. Why? Probably because it was the king of men's favorite...

 _"Aragorn, mellon nin, please, this is serious." Legolas declared in exasperation._

 _"Right" the man answered in exagerated pride, "Because it will pass into history!"_

 _"Aragorn this is serious..."_

 _"I still believe 'Las' to be the kingliest name you could find..."_

 _"Oh do you, Wingfoot?" Legolas answered, a smirk blossoming on his lips._

 _Aragorn froze at the use of his old nickname, his grin slowly erasing itself from his lips._

 _"My friend, that was truly a low hit."_

 _"And I believe 'Las' was not?" The elf answered, his smirk widening. "Clearly you display no apparent talent in finding names..."_

 _"Is this a dare, old friend?" The human answered threateningly._

 _"Well it depends on how you take it..."_

 _Aragorn then stopped talking and stared in the air for a few minutes, seemingly in deep reflexion. After some time, his eyes softened and he looked at Legolas with true wonder._

 _"What about Beriadan?"_

 _"Defender of men... Why?"_

 _"Ai, and wise they call the elves." Sarcastically said Aragorn. "Legolas, you fought for those who were not your responsibility even when you could walk away and go back to the safety of your people. Did you not earn that name? You risked your life when you knew you could live in undisturbed peace beyond the shores of the sea. Besides, if you do not consider yourself as a defender of men, consider yourself as mine."_

 _Legolas lowered his gaze to his feet, completely speechless. He had always admired Aragorn and receiving such words from him honored the elf more than he could ever express._

"Hir nin? "

Legolas' eyes snapped out of the void as he was addressed yet again. He had completely lost the trail of the conversation and found himself unable to answer anything worthy of being spoken in a council. He never usually would have let anything distract him in his duty. In fact, nothing ever had. He had been training since he was five years old and distractions never were something he had, or his father, allowed himself.

He turned his piercing blue eyes to the counselor who addressed him and quickly made up an answer that could make some sense in this situation.

"Am I wrong, dear friends, to state that this council has been only bitter remarks on the dwarves from your part?"

The counselors suddenly all seemed uneasy, looking anywhere but in their lord's astonishing eyes that seemed to pierce through their very soul. Legolas could see Arthon, one of his most trusted friends, at the other end of the wooden table trying to stiffen his laughter, which he was, as always, failing at. His friend then raised from his place and started pacing around the table, exaggerating his gesticulation as he spoke in a caricatured kingly voice:

"I do believe, my lord," Arthon answered with less credibility than a child as he bowed exaggeratingly, "that you were, are and always will be of great wisdom." After this declaration, his goofy smile changed into an expression of annoyance and subtle threat.

"And as well as we all should, we always listen to the words of the wisest and of course never question their WISE advise... Don't we counselors?" At those last words, he winked at Legolas with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Havo dad, Arthon." Legolas spoke, gesturing towards his friend's chair.

The elf obeyed, and once seated he began to throw suspicious looks at the troubled counselors, voluntarily putting pressure and guilt in their doubting hearts.

"Well," Said one hesitantly, "Perhaps we could suggest to..." He cleared his throat." _King_ Gimli that our people take the role of messengers."

He then looked at his lord expectantly, on the border of fear. Legolas turned his head towards him and declared:

"It is a good idea indeed."

The concerned counselor let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "With the agreement of the dwarves, I will see this political arrangement instaured... Unless you do not all agree."

"Who, around this table, is agreeing to the fact that the elves of Ithilien will assure the role of messengers?" Asked Raumion.

All the elves around the table raised their hands under Arthon's threatening glare.

"Good," Declared Legolas," then I believe this council to be over... For the time being. You are dismissed."

All the counselors rose from their seats and bowed to their lord before exiting the room, except for two elves that walked directly to their Lord.

"Hir nin, are you alright?"

Even after all they had gone through together, Nildë couldn't bring himself to call his prince, and now Lord, Legolas. Despite all the wars they had won and lost together, all the tears shared on the battlefield and all the deaths they had supported themselves through, Nildë still did not see himself as equal to Legolas. And the blond haired elf still could not bring himself to understand why.

" _Legolas_ , Nildë. You can simply call me Legolas, mellon nin..."

"Of course hir nin... Hem, apologies... _Legolas_."

"Nildë, there is no need for you to apologize..."

"Oh, hem right... Apologies."

Arthon, who had accompanied Nildë, was now laughing at the face of his friend, which made him even more uncomfortable.

"Ha, dear friend! You truly are a disaster." He declared laughingly.

"Apolog... Hem, as I was saying, _Legolas_ , are you all right? Your mind seemed strangely wanderous during the council... Is something troubling you?"

Legolas stayed silent for a few moments, meditating his words. He knew that no matter his answer, he would worry Nildë. Still, he would try to lessen the effect his answer would have on his friend, slanting 'slightly' the truth.

"I am well, mellon nin. I suppose I just need a little rest..."

"A little?!" Arthon blurted, "it looks like the floor will welcome your pretty face in an eye blink! Not that it wouldn't be for good..."

Legolas would have laughed if it were not for the truth in his friend's statement. He instead picked up his papers from the table and started striding out of the room, his two friends following close behind.

"Legolas, I am genuinely serious about this... Are you sure you're all right?"

The prince just kept walking silently, not even turning his head.

"My silence is your cue..." Insisted Arthon.

"Maybe he just needs some time alone," began Nildë, as he stopped walking," he did just rebuild a city and started trading with the most peak headed beings I know... And I don't mean it as an insult to their kin, of course... I intend, elves also have their defaults like the fact that..."

"Nildë!" Arthon exclaimed, while interrupting his steps, "We get it. But you must be right", he then turned to Legolas with a mock solemn impression, "mellon nin you appear, well... Exhausted. But then of course, exhaustion can come in truly distinct forms, per example, physically or mentally. The question is, O Lord Beriadan, how exhausted are you?"

"Hem, Arthon," Started Nildë shyly, "I trust that your question can be interpreted in different ways..."

"Aewon," Arthon cut him, "I believe Legolas knows exactly what I speak of..." He then whipped his head around to gaze at his lord, only to realize he had left some time ago and that he had been speaking uniquely to Nildë.

"Sweet Llùvatar! Why does this always happen when we but try to speak of him, with him!" Arthon declared, exasperated.

"Maybe he doesn't like to be the center of attention..." annunciated Nildë.

"Or..." Started Arthon with an exaggerated suspicious look, "perhaps there is something he doesn't want us to know..."

* * *

"...Although I do believe that if we are to trade with the elves my king, changes should be made considering the communications... We find their answers to our questions hem, with no offense, of course... Vague."

Aragorn lowered his gaze to the round table carved in pale stone while releasing a silent sigh. Even though he was named Estel, traduced from quenya as "hope", the repetitive comments of his counselors managed to dim his will of initiating trades with other races. Although, never enough to extinguish it completely. Gathering all the patience he had left, the king turned towards the man who had last spoken and answered as calmly as he could manage:

"I am not sure I understand the matter about which you complain, Ingon. The elves are open minded and work at their utmost capacity to make these communications as clear as possible, even though the common tongue is far from being their personal speech."

Or so he thought, since Legolas had apparently not taken the time to give but a sign of life in the last three decades. In the first ten years, Aragorn did his best to deem it acceptable. He knew that his elvish friend had the huge task to rid the eastern lands of their darkness and there build a realm of his own, which was an arduous task. But as the years passed by, the man's acceptance faded and his heart was filled with anguish. Not a word to tell him that he was happy, or eager to see him again. After all they had been through, Aragorn thought Legolas would show more devotion in their unbreakable bond, as he had long ago, when Middle-Earth's destiny depended on two Hobbits crawling their way to Mount Doom with the tiny strength they had left. Of course, the king of Gondor had not simply sat on his throne and waited for news to come by themselves. He had written and written more letters than he would ever dare to count, but took a particular care for his duty as a king and re builder of a new age, probably as Legolas did. He had constructed his new life in Minas Tirith with Arwen, his beloved and his three children whom he loved most in this entire world. Still, when the stars would show their subtle brightness, he would often stand on the balcony of the white tower and stare at the free lands that laid beyond. He would recall the numerous times when he had wandered through those forests, those fields, and had cursed them wrongly for their complexity. Even though it sometimes set him on a dangerous path, he always had cherished a deep love for the wilderness, but never before had he felt it so strongly than when he stood at the highest peek of the architecture of his ancestors, contemplating what was his home for most of his life, and longing to return there for another adventure.

 _"Face it, Aragorn. We are lost and have been for the last ten hours."_

 _Legolas shot a mocking glare at his friend, who was looking around in confusion._

 _"No, Legolas. I have travelled here before. We are not lost. I... Am simply thinking of the easiest way to choose, that is all."_

 _At this, Legolas raised his eyebrows as his lips spread in an amused smirk._

 _"And I suppose the easiest way takes ten hours to cross and possesses five identical rocks?"_

 _Aragorn turned away in annoyance as Legolas continued:_

 _"And of course you have been here before and apparently know your way. When was the last time you came here, Aragorn?"_

 _At this the man's feature contorted in deep thought as his mind was travelling through time, seeking for an answer._

 _"Well, hum..."_

 _Chuckling Legolas cut his friend's attempt to recall the lost memory:_

 _"In human language, I believe this means too long ago and beyond the reach of your fading memory. Am I wrong?"_

 _"I do not have a fading memory," Aragorn retorted "I just, well... Have a lot to remember. And you should not judge me,_ elfling _. You have been of no help during the last days."_

 _Legolas feigned indignation:_

 _"Excuse me? I have been of considerable moral support since the beginning of your short existence, ranger. But, of course, why do I call you thus? Rangers do not get lost."_

 _"Neither do the elves." Aragorn answered, triumphant._

 _"Oh, really? And what if I told you that I knew the way from the beginning, but let you seek it by yourself? After all, I wished to see the course of Anar from here. I find it interesting to have nothing between her and I. No branches, no leaves... It feels quite bare, naked. Still..."_

 _"Wait a minute," Aragorn cut him, anger rising in his voice "you knew the way all this time and said nothing? Why?! We have been wandering about, going in circles since dawn and you simply followed?!"_

 _"So you were lost." Legolas declared in pride._

Aragorn would smile with slight nostalgia as he recalled the memory. The ever living child within him advised him to go, to explore the foreign territories once more, but his people needed him; they needed their king. And so on he went, trying to push his worries to the back of his mind and wasting his precious time on councils that were mostly composed of complaints concerning the other races and their flaws.

"My king?"

Aragorn was pulled out of his reverie, to his distress. He had not heard a word of the conversation since his own statement.

"Do you agree?" The counselor insisted.

Asking what needed to be judged would surely make the king look like a fool. In a final attempt to save his pride, he formulated a sentence that would make him at least credible:

"I do believe it would be wise to send a letter to the elves concerning this matter. And now, it would be preferable to declare this council over since, after all, it is midnight."

At this statement, the members of the gathering turned to the window in surprise.

"Well, thank you all for your presence," Aragorn continued, "You are dismissed."

All stood and left the room as the king observed. When he finally was alone, he sighed in deep exasperation. He then slowly rose from his seat and made his way down the corridor, to his sleeping quarters.

He opened two large doors of dark wood with the carvings of another age and entered his family's personal living room. On his right, there was a wall that graciously separated into close columns carved in the same fashion as thus of the entrance. This artistic separation stood to the back of a large leather couch that faced a massive fireplace that lit the room with a comforting luminosity. On the fireside sat a large shelf containing numerous books. The wooden structure reached from floor to ceiling, and on the facing wall laid Andúril, the blade of the king. Farther on the wall where the sword shown, a door led to the bathing room, which was aligned with the door of the bedroom that stood beside the bookshelves.

Aragorn then took a few steps forward and turn to the right, opening the door to his and Arwen's bedroom. The room was filled with darkness but for the candle lit by the bedside. There, lying on the bed, was a pure example of beauty itself, reading calmly. The lady Arwen, now queen of Gondor, Aragorn's greatest love of his life. She had forsaken the serenity and freedom of her people for the man she desired, and forgot her blessed immortality to be by his side till the end of his days. The king's love for the lady Undómiel went beyond the reach of words. The very sight of her always made him speechless. He had the immense privilege of sharing his life with her and creating new ones, three precisely. Together they had raised a family of their own within the walls of the white city. First came their son, Eldarion, who was now a flourishing adult and a devoted captain of the guards of the city. Afterwards, Lostariel, their first daughter, was born. She was a woman renowned for the proximity she shared with her people and her hearing heart, full of compassion and devotedness for her people. At last, Valwen, third child of the royal family, saw her first rising sun, which was still incomparable to the light in her parents eyes at her arrival. Valwen was a young woman of great wisdom, even though her time on earth was unbelievably short compared to those who showed such a conscience. Her sight reached beyond the course of time, and her eyes could bare the very soul of those who met her piercing stare.

"Meleth nin," began Arwen in her deep and soothing voice, "I believe it would be time for you to sleep..."

Aragorn could not contain his joy at hearing his beloved's voice after listening to thus of his counselors for an elongate lap of time.

"Indeed I believe it is. Just the sound of their voices was enough to tire me... I believe I will be deaf for the next days..."

"Estel..." Arwen answered with false reprimandation. "Perhaps everything tires you... Meleth nin, I can see it everyday. Many things are troubling your mind and I believe that it would be time for you to rest your thoughts and step away from your duty as king for at least a mere day..."

Aragorn listened to his wife's wise words as he laid down next to her, still dressed in his royal tunic.

"You miss the wilderness and the freedom Estel. As much as you try to hide it for the sake of your people, it's grasp on you will not lessen."

She then raised her hand to his face and slowly caressed his cheek before posing a smooth kiss on his upper lip.

"Ai," began Aragorn while stroking her pointed ears, "what would I be without you?"

Arwen smiled slightly before softly kissing her husband on the forehead.

"Le melin Estel, Losto vae."

"Losto vae, meleth nin"

She turned on her side to blow away the candle and then laid down next to her husband, putting her head on his chest as he circled his arm around her lithe form while kissing her temple. She would not sleep, her kin not needing it, but she would stay with Aragorn nonetheless, cherishing every breath he took.

Merely two peaceful hours had passed before someone came crashing through their quarters, seemingly in panicked hurry. Aragorn immediately woke, sliding his knife from under the pillow and positioning himself in front of Arwen.

"ADA! NANETH!" She yelled while bursting through the door, a look of horror decorating her usually soft features.

Aragorn instantly put his knife on the bedside table, not wanting to scare the young woman even more.

"Valwen?" He said, inviting her to sit next to him. "Hush, just breathe, calm yourself, everything is alright."

His daughter's breathing didn't lessen in the least and she shuddered as the images she had seen played again and again in her mind. Arwen then took her hands and softly raised her chin so she could meet her eyes.

"Hush sell nin, what have you seen?" She asked, in a smooth voice with an undertone of apprehension and fear.

Valwen then tried to take a deep and calming breath before opening her mouth and blurting out the words:

"The void... Empty."

* * *

For those who do not understand Valwen's statement (which probably is happening if you haven't read Tolkien's books), do not worry, everything will be explained.

Elvish=

Beriadan: Defender of men

Mellon nin: My friend

Legolas: Greenleaf

Hir nin: My lord

Havo dad: Sit down

Estel: Hope

Eldarion: Son of the eldar

Lostariel: Blooming

Valwen: Power maiden

Meleth nin: My love

Le melin: I love you

Losto vae: Sleep well

Sell nin: My daughter

Arthon: Exalted male

Nildë: Friend


	2. Of Killers and Elf Climbers

Chapter 2: Of killers and Elf Climbers.

 **See chapter 1 for disclaimer.**

 **Author's note: Thank you so much for the reviews, follows and favorites! We truly appreciate seeing that people are attracted by the story and reading your opinion. A special thanks to** ** _Aralas_** **for showing us how to change an already posted chapter, sorry again for the mistake about the author of "For The Love Of The Lord Of The White tree", it has been corrected (thanks to** ** _Aralas_** **for this). We are posting this chapter before our final exam session, so it could take some time before the next update.**

" _Such a pity still, you tried._ "

Thranduil Oropherion

* * *

King Thranduil of the woodland realm was calmly sitting on his wooden throne, a glass of dorwinion resting in his right hand as he glared at the three advisors that were on their knees, waiting for their king's answer. He then wondered why he even had advisors. After all, their counsel was far from needed in order for him to rule his people properly.

"I have declared this once," began the king, "in the hope that this subject was closed and that you would not bother my ears with such gormlessness again."

The blond haired elf then looked down to his advisors again, only to find them staring at him with some apprehensive looks.

As the consiglieres knew but to well, it was on truth and reason that their ruler had forged his opinion, and even though many decided to open their hearts to the free peoples of Middle-Earth, the king could trust no more. The race of the Nauglir was, as he desired, a distant, unpleasant memory and thus it would remain for his eternal life, even if the end of days should be upon him. He repulsed the dwarves deeply and the simple thought of them drained the only ounce of patience he still possessed, which explained his fury when his own counsellors, who had known about his opinion for decades, kept wasting their time in attempting to change their superior's mind. Although, had they offered the same idea but a few thousand years ago, the open heart of the queen would have softened thus of the ruthless king and their demand would have been considered. Now, the heart of the king, or what was left of it, was cold and hard as the ice upon the murderous misty mountains. The very warmth of his being had faded with the queen, and even if Thranduil was considered as the best ruler that the woodland realm ever had for his hardness in times of war, the peace in his heart could but lessen as thus of his kin grew. The lack of imminent danger that had distracted him for years was now over, and he had begun to remember what emotions felt like once more, which he despised more than anything. The only reason why he was still amongst the living and had not surrendered to grief was that he had shut out his melancholy, his pain, but also his love, happiness and all other feelings that used to define him in better days. In the previous years, he gave himself no choice; his people needed him, there was no time for having feelings of his own. But now, his people were safe and there was no more menace that required quick reactions and nerves of steel, which left him without the motivation that used to keep him together.

Still, his composure was as impressive as before, and none could pierce his icy mask or decrypt his intimidating glare,

except for one.

No matter how hard he tried to push him away, the king of the woodland realm could not keep this wall of pride between his son and himself. Just as his wife did, Legolas could read every carefully hidden emotion that passed through his father's mind, to the king's grand annoyance. But no matter how hard Thranduil tried to push him away, the young prince would always reach and remind him that he was still alive, that his people needed him, that the world was in peril. This made Thranduil think of Legolas' reaction to the refusal he expressed concerning the trading with the dwarves. He would surely have been deeply annoyed, but would have hidden it behind an emotionless expression. But what the elfling had not realized was that the reading of the other was mutual, and the monarch could easily see the exasperation in his son's eyes. In fact, so many times had he seen in the elfling's eyes emotions that the king would never have wished to witness upon any face. The king knew he had pushed his son far, perhaps too far. He had started his training at such a young age that Legolas barely had any childhood. Of course, never was his wife agreeing with this. In fact, in the king's eyes, the young prince at been the one and only source of conflict between him and his wife. Although, when she joined Oropher amongst the jewels of Elbereth, Thranduil realised that Legolas was painfully too much like her. Not only did he have the same features and deep, calming blue eyes but his thoughts, opened and just, were too much like thus of the queen. Only landing eyes on his own son made the king drown in nostalgia and made his heart clench under the emotions that coursed through his body. That was, he supposed, why he had grown so distant from the last and only memory he had of Her.

Actually, he realized, the prince was not here.

Legolas had left a few decades ago to Imladris as a messenger, and had never returned. No word, no sign of life; for all he knew, his son could be dead. Of course, rumor had it that he became "Lord Of Ithilien" and, as the counsellors kept repeating, he was trading with the dwarves of the glittering caves, those stinky, ignorant, idiotic, heartless beings refused by Llúvatar himself.

"In Llùvatar's name, there shall be no trading with the dwarves under my reign!" His eyes seemed to turn to steel as he annunciated his next words. "I have given an attempt to this in the past, and I suppose you are all aware of the outcome. These creatures are selfish, greedy and think nothing of the world around them. I will not forsake the goods of my people to their hands and even less accept anything from them."

At these words, one of the advisors mustered all the courage that he could, and spoke.

"Only, Ô great king Thranduil, all the lands of Middle Earth have begun to trade between themselves... We even heard word that the kingdom of Ithilien was in process to begin tradings with the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. After all, the forest of Ithilien is the territory of-"

"Prince Legolas, yes. Do you think I do not know this? And why should we follow the example of other lands? If I ever had, we would have stood back from the fights ravaging our lands for millennia and perished. Besides, other lands are not my concern. Tell me, where were they when Eryn Lasgalen was perishing to the hand of Dol Guldur? "

All the advisors and guards shuddered as they heard the name of their old enemy being spoken.

"Where were they when the blood of our kin was staining the very lands we fought so hard to protect? Tell me that you did not already forget this, counsellors, for it will haunt every decision I am to take concerning other lands."

At the end of his sentence, the king took his glass of wine to his thin lips, then rolled the blood colored liquid in the glass, all the while smelling his fruity aromas. He then sighed deeply in exasperation, rolling his eyes, and let the glass fall on the floor in a shattering noise.

"Poisoned. Again."

"Ai elbereth!" Rang an angry voice that echoed in the throne room.

Thranduil dismissively waved his hand, a look of carelessness, annoyance and lack of surprise decorating his aesthetic features.

"Arrest him..." He casually ordered.

Two guards then dragged the elf away to the donjons, leaving the king alone with his counsellors once more.

"My king, perhaps we should remedy to this issue... It is the third time since last season."

"I believe it is not of pressing matter. All attempts have failed to but weaken my health and there is barely a few of these traitors left..."

The king smirked, recalling all of those who decorated his donjons, and would for an undetermined length of time. Few assassination attempts had happened in the last few years and yet, the king paid them no heed.

"If it is your wish my king... Although, considering the dwarves per-"

"This matter is closed. I thought this to be clear."

"Of course, hir nin." The advisor answered, bowing his head.

"Very well, then", the king commented,"You are dismissed".

The counsellors, disappointed by their failure at changing their ruler's will concerning the dwarves, left with their heads still bowed after their reverence.

Thranduil watched as they exited the throne room before falling into thought once more, his icy glare staring in the timeless void. Something about it was strange...

* * *

"Nildë, stop twitching, I need you to be steady, this is really important!", Arthon declared from his perch on Nildë's shoulders, while trying to look through a whole in one of the main windows of Legolas' study. The night had draped its cover over the forest of Ithilien and the voices of the two renegade elves were the only sounds we could hear beside thus of the nature.

"Apologies... Although, I do not think this to be a really good idea." Nildë answered, on the borders of shyness.

"Are you kidding me?!", Arthon declared, "If he won't tell us anything, then I will find out by myself. Besides, it is my sacred duty to assure his well being. Anyways, I like being on your shoulders like this, makes me feel like Cadworon."

"I do not think he is this tall..."

"Valar, Nildë, stop drifting out of duty, Cadworon is far from being our main problem at the moment."

"I thought you said he always was?"

"Right... But now, we have an even bigger problem." Arthon answered, a look of faked suspicion on his face.

"That you wish to solve by looking through a high placed window whilst swinging on my shoulders?"

"Exactly. This is for our Lord, warrior. Desperate times equal desperate measures."

"Desperate times?" Answered Nildë with his soft and innocent voice.

"Yes. Yesterday, when Ithil was at its highest peak, I really subtly climbed to Legolas' window and sneaked into his office. Of course, my excellent furtivety permitted me not to be noticed as I entered. Then I saw... IT!"

Without a doubt, Arthon's credibility was something that highly needed polishing.

" _It_? Arthon, hem... I am convinced I misinterpreted your words."

"What do you mean? It is as clear as the Mirror's water! Legolas was SLEEPING!"

"Arthon, I believe you should lowe-"

"ON HIS DESK!"

"Arthon, it is night some are slee-"

"STILL DOING HIS PAPERS!"

"Well...No one is sleeping now.." Nildë murmured to himself.

"WITH HIS EYES CLOSED!"

"Perhaps he is simply tir-"

"HE'S DYING!"

"Artho-"

"ITHILIEN IS LOST!"

"Please, I don't-"

"I feel it in the water..."

"Are you quot-"

"I feel it in the earth..."

"Arthon I think someone is co-"

"I smell it... IN THE AIR!"

An elf maiden silently approached, anger clearly decorating her features.

"What in the Valar's name are you two doing?!" She asked, marking each of her words with annoyance.

Arthon wipped his head around, heavily swaying on Nildë's shoulder.

"WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! Oh, hullo IareEEETH !"

At this exact moment, Nildë turned around to look at Iareth, to have Arthon finish his mid air fall in his arms and making both of them crumble on the ground.

"So much for being subtle..." Nildë murmured, his voice muffled under the weight of his friend. Arthon rolled over and raised himself at Iareth's level, eyeing her with a defying glare.

"I am currently fulfilling my duty as a member of the Lord's elite team, warrior."

Iareth glared at him, obviously trying to keep all of her emotions at bay.

"Which you appear not to be doing," He continued, "After all, your blindness in duty as clearly kept you from noticing that your own Lor-"

Iareth then grabbed him by the front of his tunic, her muscled arm leaving him no escape, bringing his face closer to hers and cutting him in mid-sentence.

"Arthon, if you make one more noise louder than thus of your breathing you will 'feel the earth' on your broken teeth, Am I clear?" She declared, her voice hissing between her teeth.

"Mm, I have never been so close to you before..." He mocked her, winking.

She raised her hand to slap him but at this moment, Nildë raised himself from the ground and put his hand on her firm shoulder.

"Iareth, we truly apologize for the noise... Perhaps, you should release him?"

Iareth dropped her grip on Arthon's tunic and moved her angry gaze towards Nildë.

"I honestly don't know how you manage to cope with him." She declared before turning on her heels and leaving.

"Well I don't know how I coped fighting by your side for centuries..." Arthon murmured, imitating her voice.

"What was that?" The she-elf angrily asked, her whole frame turning around.

"She heard m-" Arthon began in surprise.

"Nothing, Iareth" answered Nildë, "You can go back to what you were doing..."

Iareth glared at them, visibly hesitating between slicing their throats or simply leave and finally decided to walk away, deeming that Legolas clearly did not need them bickering.

"Nildë, did you just... Lie?" Arthon asked after the maiden's departure.

But before the innocent elf could answer, another voice rose from behind them.

"Nildë, Arthon? What are you doing out here?" The blond elf declared his voice still raspy with unintended sleep.

"Legolas..." Arthon false pleasingly answered, " Well, we were, hum... Gardening!" His voice lowered as he muttered to himself "No, of course not! That would be a stupid excuse!" Then he reached a normal tone once more "Well we were... We were... Coming to see if you needed help with your papers! Yes! You know, with all those huge piles of paperwork, we thought two more heads could be useful! As your centuries old elite team, Cadworon, Iareth, Erwath, Helegon, Nildë and I thought you might need support in your immensely demanding task as a Lord, that was appointed to you recently. Unfortunately, Cadworon could not because he was... Taking a walk. Then, Iareth was not available since, well, you know...", he finished mid-sentence with a suspicious laugh before continuing "Erwath! Erwath was... What was he doing, Nildë?"

As he reached the end of his sentence, he signaled his friend, seeking for support.

"We were eavesdropping..." Said Nildë, shamelessly. After a short silence, he acknowledged his mistake and lowered his gaze to the floor, cheeks reddening.

Arthon stared at the traitor, his eyes turning to steel. He then gooffingly smiled and looked towards Legolas, forcing a laugh out of his throat.

"Ha ha... Really funny Nildë..."

Legolas suspiciously looked at him, his eyes slowly clearing of the fog created by sleep.

"And what were you two eavesdropping for?" He softly questioned.

To this question, Nildë stepped forward, a look of determination on his face, his grayish blue eyes shining with naivety and sincerity.

"Well my lo-, Legolas." He began, "As we informed you a few days ago, we are... Worried about your well-being. Your thoughts practically always seem elsewhere and-"

"YOU FELL ASLEEP ON YOUR PAPERS FOR VALAR'S SAKE WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Arthon interrupted in distress, his slender arms waving around.

Legolas slightly winced at the high tone suddenly taken by his companion, to wince again as a feminine voice rose behind him.

"DID I NOT WARN YOU?! THAT IS IT! NO MORE CHANCES FOR YOU FOOLS! EGO MIBO OR- Oh, hullo Legolas." She interrupted herself, pushing her dark hair behind her back innocently.

The blond elf lord turned to glance at Iareth in misunderstanding. The she-elf, deducing his confusion, continued.

"Are you telling me you did not hear them earlier, _right by your window_?"

"I TOLD YOU SOMETHING WAS WRONG! HE IS DYING!" Arthon exclaimed.

At this moment, another elf, taller than most of his own race, joined the four others.

"Apologies for the sound, Cadworon. Arthon seems to be slightly panicked." justified Legolas, discouraged by his warrior's behavior.

The tall, reddish-brown haired elf kept his usual calm state as he asked:

"Is something wrong? Some of you seem anxious."

"Of course, something is wrong! Legolas fell asleep! ASLEEP!"

"Ai, Elbereth! Arthon lower your tone!" Legolas ordered with a hushed voice.

Suddenly, Arthon's head was brutally pushed forward by some unknown force, that was revealed in the following second. Helegon, his rageous face slightly hidden by his blood red hair, stared at the yelling elf with the apparent envy of tightening his fingers around the disturber's throat. He stood forward, his gaze steadily holding his lord's, and started moving his hands to communicate in a way that only Arthon could not understand, which he shamelessly showed.

"Right, okay... What was that, Helegon?"

The addressed elf's face reddened in burning rage as many wondered if Arthon has spoken his last words. Legolas slowly breathed in before informing his confused friend.

"He only asked what was going on, Arthon. Well, Helegon, I believe it to be quite hard to explain."

Helegon, even if still curious, gestured once more.

"And what was _that_?" Demanded the only elf that could not decrypt the meaning behind his companion's moving hands.

"He is asking you, and I quote cheerly, to "shut up". Harshly answered Iareth.

Arthon then murmured to himself. "Or what, you'll cut my tongue?"

It was hard to separate Arthon and Helegon's ever coming fists.

Arthon knew about his friend's suffering, he knew that he woke every night thinking he was choking in his blood because, obviously, Helegon was not born voiceless.

"Alright! I'm sorry!" Yelled the victim of the mute elf's hits.

Helegon ceased. The group fell silent, except for the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Is something wrong? What are you all here for?" Asked as soft voice, from which came the wisdom only the elves could access.

"That is a good question indeed, Erwath." replied Legolas, still discouraged, "Would you give us the honor to explain the situation, Arthon?"

"Well," began Iareth, not wanting to hear Arthon blabbering again, "I was peacefully resting under the silent moon when I suddenly heard cries worthy of a dying moose. Obviously, I immediately recognized Arthon's voice."

The concerned elf twitched in annoyance.

"And so, I followed the sound of this atrocious melody to find Arthon yelling from the top of Nildë's shoulders, under Legolas' window."

"I am quite aware of this part of the tale," Began Legolas,"Although, I believe Arthon was the one I chose to explain his and Nildë's queer behavior."

Iareth rolled her green eyes in annoyance but kept quite, honoring the demand of her lord. In fact, no one had ever dared to question his orders.

"Well," Declared Cadworon in his deep voice, "I suggest we all forget about this and go back to our whereabouts."

Helegon signaled his agreement with a nod of his head.

As Cadworon and Helegon left, a messenger entered the scene bearing a letter in his delicate white hands.

"My Lord Legolas, we have received a letter for you. It seems to be urgent..."

"Whom is it from?" Asked the blue eyed elf.

"Minas Tirith, my lord."

* * *

Elvish and meaning of names=

Hir nin: My lord

Ego mibo orch: Go kiss an orc

Cadworon: Shapely male

Arthon: Exalted male

Iareth: Blood female

Helegon: Ice male

Erwarth: Lone betrayer

Nildë: Friend

Legolas: Greenleaf

Ithil: The Moon


	3. Renaissance

**See chapter 1 for disclaimer.**

 **Authors' note: Hey everyone! Sorry it took some time to update, we had plenty of such amusing (we couldn't be more sarcastic) final exams. So, to compensate, this chapter is really long... Like, really. Anyways, enjoy.**

 _"Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more_."

Galadriel, Lady of light.

* * *

 _The king could not help but to watch his fingers twitch on his ceaselessly bouncing knees. He had fought through war, death, fire... And yet, never in his life had he felt so tense and helpless. As he sat on a chair by the door that led to the room where his wife laid, he focused himself on staying calm, and seated._

 _"I am sure you will be a wonderful father." Faramir declared._

 _Since his arrival at Gondor, the heir of the stewardship of the city had befriended the king himself and gave his counsel if demanded which, in his superior's case, was often. In every little decision, Aragorn gave the best of himself and took the advice of many, considering his people's opinion. Nowadays, the monarch and the son of Denethor considered themselves as good friends. After all, Elessar had been a friend of Boromir himslef._

 _"Thank you, Faramir", Aragorn sincerely spoke with gratitude._

 _Although, he seemed untamable. Faramir, some time ago, had realized that Gondor's savior was the antonym of the sitting type. Would it be the ruler's choice, he would be by his beloved wife's side, supporting her through the painful process of giving birth._

 _Her first birth._

 _Elbereth, did he wish so strongly to run through the door shielding him from his lover and to hold her hand._

 _Of course, as a healer himself, Aragorn understood that his presence would be but a nuisance to the treatment..._

 _A treatment which he could actually give to Arwen himself._

 _"I have to go." The once called Estel simply explained before standing quicker than what Faramir thought to be human capacity._

 _The steward knew that concerning this case, there was nothing to be done._

 _"Be safe." He simply advised, unable to do more._

 _His small lips spread in his usual wise, deep smile. The king nodded back returning his manner._

 _He opened the door smoothly to avoid disturbing the queen his heart beat for and could not help but to smile at the sight of her features, her sky blue eyes liberating deep untamable light. Although the man's smile was not a prepared and intended smile. It was an unpredictable, undeniable smile, almost too big for his own face._

 _"My king?", a young healer asked, taken by surprise._

 _"I came to give birth to my child", he said, his mouth ever widening._

 _All older healers smiled at his words, they understood him completely._

 _"Estel", Arwen's voice whispered._

 _The addressed man sat by her side and moved a strand of raven hair from her pale face._

 _"I am here, meleth nin, I am here." He slowly replied, his voice soothing as if he were comforting a child, which he was probably doing, partly._

 _The she-elf smiled back._

 _"I know."_

 _The king then gently took her soft hand in his, a hand that was scared and rigid from decades of fighting. He couldn't believe they were here. He was the king of Gondor, married to the only woman he had ever truly loved who was about to give birth to a child he had never dared to wish about having. A serene happiness spread inside him, and seemed to travel through his hand to reach his wife's, because suddenly, a great calm softened the elf-maiden's features. Thus they remained, savoring every second passing while they knew they had a life of love and joy yet to come._

 _Suddenly, the soft elven hand clenched the man's. The queen's soft voice, tensed with pain, let out three simple words that set everyone into motion:_

 _"It is time."_

 _Somehow, mothers knew when their role became official. Fathers, though, could never be quite as ready._

 _Aragorn kissed her forehead before setting into action. Blankets, fresh water, everything was in place when Arwen gave her last, and small cries were heard in the large room. Aragorn held the newborn in his arms and cleaned him slowly while contemplating the tiny face that had just seen Anar for the very first time. He slowly paced to his beloved and laid by her side, before deposing a soft kiss upon her brow. His back leaned against the wall as Arwen raised to reach his height and leaned on her husband's large shoulder._

 _Aragorn observed the mother's reaction as she first laid eyes upon her child; watery eyes._

 _"He is beautiful." She simply spoke, speechless._

 _Of course, she knew her child was a boy._

 _The father's tears joined hers as they rolled shamelessly upon their cheeks out of pure happiness. Arwen then laughed softly before declaring sarcastically:_

 _"Gaze upon his magnificence, my King. He definitely has your ears."_

 _Aragorn chuckled as he saw the pointy ears erupting from the child's head. Aragorn answered in exaggerated manner, even though he could not help but to let his eyes fill with water._

 _"Well, my queen, I believe the lack of energy has reduced your capacity of observation. He definitely has yours."_

 _They both leaned closer as they giggled in harmony. Arwen softly caressed the sleeping baby's forehead._

 _"This is what we have been fighting for, Estel."_

 _Aragorn let out a sobbing laugh. Arwen had the gift of speaking aloud for his heart._

 _"Yes, it is meleth nin," Aragorn could not help but to laugh a wet joyous laugh. After some time, he regained composure and wiped_

 _his cheeks,"You should rest, Arwen. I will stay with you."_

 _The she-elf smiled softly before her eyelids joined._

 _"I am proud of us Estel." She simply said as she went to sleep._

 _Aragorn cautiously held the little hand in his, nowalone with the child . Valar did he wish that Legolas was here, sharing this moment with him, being one of first people to hold the child in his arms. But there was no answer, no sign, nothing. After all they had gone through, how could their friendship be based on silence and hope for the other's return?_

 _At this moment, the baby cooed and waved his arms through the air, learning more about the new world as he lived his first moments of awareness._

 _"Shhh, it is alright", Aragorn whispered, "I am here."_

 _Aragorn smiled softly before adding, full of affection._

 _"Eldarion."_

 _Thus Eldarion, half-elven, heir to the throne of Gondor came to this world._

* * *

" _Your presence is demanded amidst the walls of Minas Tirith at the soonest. Please arrive with your most trusted advisors._

 _Our regards,_

 _The royal council of Gondor_."

Legolas deposed the letter after reading it for what must have been the tenth time. He was now in his study, the queer events of the night not more than a distant memory in his distracted mind. He closed his eyes, trying to assess the fact that he was finally going to see Aragorn again. Although, he suspected the strangeness of the situation since it was not the king himself that had sent the letter, but Faramir, his trusted helper. He would be leaving with his team on the morrow, at dawn. His packs were already sitting in the corner of the room under his long white bow and sharpened twin knives. He sighed, looking over the murderous weapons, hoping they would for once be of no use in his short journey to the city of kings. The war had changed him, that he knew, but he was growing more exhausted and detached from reality. It was tiresome the longing, trying to keep his mind away from it's melody and then having to start the cycle over and over again. In the beginning, his mind was truly distracted by the renaissance of Ithilien, although, when thus was over, there was nothing but drudging papers to distract his thoughts from the calling of the sea. Albeit, it had grown not enough as a distraction and Legolas was quickly losing his grasp onto the reasons why he was still upon Middle Earth. Seeing his human friend would surely remind him of them. The blond elf wondered why he would be summoned to Gondor in such urgency. After all, these were times of peace. Unless it was a matter concerning politics between the lands, which would not be surprising in the least. He had decided to bring the whole elite team with him. After centuries of fighting by there side, Legolas trusted these warriors with his life. Of course they were far from perfect, beaten and broken by war, but he would never treat them for anyone else. He trained them, even raised some of them, to become the warriors they are today... He could not be more proud. After all, they had been chosen by the king himself and Legolas trusted the lord's judgment. When the decision of creating an elite team had been declared, warriors of all the land of Mirkwood trained themselves harder in order to have the chance to be chosen for the selections that would be hosted by the prince himself. Between these men-at-arms, few were chosen to be presented in front of king Thranduil, who made the finale choice concerning whom would have the honor to be a part of the elite team of Mirkwood. The platoon inherited the hardest missions, the ones that were judged impossible or simply reckless. Legolas had always been the leader, accompanied by a second in command. Tauriel had been the one to fulfill this role... But not anymore, not since The Battle Of The Five Armies, where he lost her forever. In fact, most of the member of the team had been lost, only few remained. And yet, not completely. They had been damaged, in a way or an other, some crafted to be person they were never before, like rocks sculpted by the continuing current of the water, dark waves that...

Waves.

He could almost feel them rocking his body when deep in thought. He could see them shattering on stone and flying in thousands of drops that shone like pearls. He could hear its melody, the first sound his people had heard as they came to this world.

 _Legolas_

He could see Anar contemplating its reflexion in this endless mirror, forever in movement. He could imagine masses of water colliding, to become even stronger than before. He could visualize thousands of liquid protuberances, like colonies pressed against each other, sharing the infinity of water that knew naught of the rules of time, like Legolas himself, had he not encountered different types of existence.

 _Legolas_

He knew that name. Was it his? Why? Greenleaf. He used to know nothing better than the sigh of the trees in his homeland. But since his acquaintance with the possibility of a world beyond the shores of Middle-Earth, his heart belonged to the waters sailed by his ancestors: he was bound to it, never to deny his deep love for Belegaer. _Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more_ , was he told by the lady of light. At the time, he simply considered denying it.

 _Legolas?_

There it struck him again, the use of his name that had lost its meaning, for his love for living things was hushed by the murmurs of his people, awaiting his departure. 'Although, they shall wait', Legolas would tell himself,' I made a promise'. Indeed he had. He had sworn, he had given his word...

 _Legolas?!_

Then he heard a cry. Not thus of his people, but thus of one he cursed for its tempting existence thirty years ago. Without thinking, he covered his ears as he felt his very soul being stabbed by the restless, painful sound.

Since when did the seagulls know his name?

They cried it repetitively, drowning the lord of Ithilien with the sound that had compromised his very existence.

 _Legolas!_

That time, he realized that his name was spoken with the voice of another. Another he knew but too well.

"Legolas! Please! You have to fight this! Legolas!"

Legolas snapped out of thought as he felt hands crawling and tightening around his contorted features. Legolas opened his eyes and Aewon could swear he saw the restless waves colliding inside his lord's orbs, as if the very ocean was locked inside the elf's mind. It took an indefinite length of time before Legolas' glaze seemed to finally clear when a word finally made it's way out of his lips.

"Aewon?" He murmured, as if the ordeal had left him completely drained from swimming through an endless sea.

"It's the sea longing, isn't it?" Aewon asked, even if it wasn't really a question. He had seen that longing look before, he did not even need Legolas' answer to confirm his suspicions.

The lord simply cast his eyes down, as if speaking of it only made him realize even more that is fate was sealed to thus of the endless Belegaer.

"Legolas, why didn't you tell us?" Aewon asked, looking close to desperate, "we could have helped you. You don't have to fight this alone, not after all that you did for us." He continued, Legolas's heart breaking at his friend's innocent but determined look.

"Aewon, mellon nin, I am fine... Please, do not tell the others. I do not wish for them to add my burdens to theirs." Legolas answered, softly but resigned all the same. He seemed resolute through the tiredness plaguing his senses.

Aewon understood his lord and companion's will. The way Legolas was raised and his lifestyle had given him the habit of suffering in silence and to avoid having the others reminding him of his hurts.

And that was probably why he seldom spoke.

The elf knew of pain better than most. But never, after his father's harsh way of stoicism and his lack of compassion, he had found his suffering worth sharing. The others, as he thought, did not need to know his weaknesses and pains. After all, they had some of their own.

Sometimes, it came to him that he was not worth it, simply there for his loved ones' needs. That thought was keeping him on these shores and so he believed it.

The blond elf took a few moments to compose himself and then raised from his wooden chair to walk to the door at the other side of the room, not even looking back.

"I will go take some air Nildë... Expect me in the morning, before our departure."

And just like that, he left. Leaving Nildë alone with his worries. Of course, he could talk to Arthon about it, but he preferred to avoid the apocalypse.

"Ai Legolas what have you done..."

* * *

The shining sun had just shown the peak of it's nose and the birds had been singing for some time when a voice rang through the forest of Ithilien, disturbing the calm ambiance of morning.

"All right everyone, this is not funny. Who took my travel tunic?!" Arthon exclaimed, walking shirtless around the team.

"I don't know Arthon... Perhaps it's travelling?" Declared Iareth, smirking.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." He laughed heartlessly, "I'm laughing my lungs out. Honestly, Iareth, where did you put my tunic?"

"I believed I answered that question already." She proudly declared.

"Iareth, if you don't give me my tunic immediately, I will slice your insides open and hang you with y-"

"Good morning." Legolas declared as he joined the team. "Is everyone ready to leav-" He sighed. "Arthon...Why aren't you wearing a tunic?"

"That is truly a good question... Perhaps Iareth could answer?" Arthon responded, his voice poisoned by annoyance.

"If it is to hear you two bickering again, then she won't. Arthon please just go and get yourself another tunic. We will be waiting for you before leaving."

Arthon stared wide eyed at him, not even bothering to hide his surprise. That, coming from Legolas' usually comforting and peaceful voice, was rude. Prevailingly, Legolas would never complain about the constant bickering between the members of his team. He would usually identify the source of their discomfort and help them fight it at the utmost of his capacities. Today was the first time in centuries that Legolas did not bother to hide a hint of annoyance. Today was the first time in centuries where Arthon wore a serious expression. He looked around him, seeing that the others were definitely thinking the same thing he did. Cadworon seemed uncomfortable, balancing his tall form from one foot to another. Iareth was staring at her lord, her expression indescribable and Nildë seemed like he was going to simply faint from astonishment. The silence became deafening as Helegon signaled Erwarth with practiced movements to come and packing the horses with him.

"I think I'll do just that..." Arthon declared as he threw a suspicious look towards Legolas.

He then left to his house amongst the trees to fetch a new tunic. Meanwhile Nildë, Iareth and Cadworon stood next to their lord in silence, until the she-elf accusingly declared:

"Oh well, that was gentle Legolas."

Legolas looked at her, his eyes softening and the she-elf could see how tired he was, which was worrying, knowing that elves barely needed to sleep.

"You are right, Iareth... Apologies. I do not know what took me. I will speak with Arthon later."

Cadworon cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the three elves around him.

"Legolas, I do not mean to intrude," he began with his gruffry voice, "but is there something we should know? You never act like this, in fact, you seem tired and that is worrisome."

Nildë suddenly seemed uneasy and mumbled something about going to help Arthon find a new tunic before leaving to find him.

Iareth turned to Cadworon, doing as if Legolas wasn't there.

"You know what Cadworon, we both know that Legolas won't tell us a thing before it kills him. So we'll go press on some weak spots to get the information we need..."

She ignored Legolas' glare as Cadworon questioned her.

"Weak spot?"

"And by weak I mean... Nildë."

Legolas turned wide eyes to her as if she had announced the death of some important lord.

"Why would you interrogate Nildë?" He asked, his voice still weakened by the past ordeal.

"Please... Do you think me blind? He obviously knows something."

Legolas was about to retort when Erwarth and Helegon arrived with the horses. There was one for each member of the team and

none were wearing saddles, only bags containing clothes,water and a little bit of food. Legolas' white stallion immediately joined it's master, letting him caress his mane. The blue eyed elf suddenly felt calmer in the presence of the son of Arod. Although, he knew by the push of the horse's head to his chest that the animal was worried.

"We now ride to Gondor my friends."

* * *

Anar had just finished her course in the sky when the company stopped for the night. The elves did not demand it, aside perhaps from Legolas, but they desired to spare the horses from any pain. They had stopped in the middle of a field, half a day away from Minas Tirith. All were grateful of the fact that they did not need to analyze each of their action by fear of being found by an enemy. Still, hundreds of years of fighting alimented their reflexes and looking around every time a noise would be too close, or too strange was involuntary. Yet, the peace that had taken over was now tightening its grasp on their hearts, as all felt eased and comforted. To share a now peaceful friendship with living things was, for the Eldar, the greatest victory of all.

The companions sat in silence as they contemplated the stars, pearls of light born from the voice of Varda. Their eyes raised to the sky as the sound of a nearby stream whispered in their ears.

Seldom did the wood elves see the stars.

Even as it may be their most precious light of all, the sickness of the forest had shielded them from the sky, emprisoning them in the sickness that spread in the earth. To now contemplate it freely felt like a dream, a constant reminder of the beauty they were unable to heed for hundreds of years.

They observed in true wonder, recalling the time when they craved for those restless lights of hope and memory, when it was shut out, torn from their hearts by a renewed darkness that had sent too many of their people to the world beyond.

How fortunate they were, to lay eyes upon the treasures of whom they called Elbereth, and how unlucky were those who did not have the chance. They felt angry and grieved to know that so many would miss the beauty and serenity of the earth, but to know them amongst their beloved gems of light soothed their hearts and silenced their guilt.

And some wondered what they were fighting for...

The voice of the stars mingled in true harmony with the lullaby of the water, the first sound ever heard by the Quendi: the first living who spoke.

Yet again, in the manner of those who were before them, the voices of the immortal company joined the melody of the earth, and their thoughts went beyond space and time.

Thus the elves had learned of true rest, without death or suffering. A moment of purity and resourcing from the earth, with which they had a bond none other could understand.

* * *

The elven group progressed towards the city of stone with light steps, looking forward with anticipation and excitement debating in their hearts. All of a sudden, Arthon stopped short and spun his horse around, heading towards a stream that lay by their path.

He stayed his steed, facing the flowing water with an expression of incredulity contorting his bold features. His eyes lowered to the pouring liquid, in which floated something like fabric.

The others slowed to a stop and turned around, wondering what had caused their friend's unexpected behavior.

"Is something wrong, Arthon?" calmly asked Legolas, "What have you seen?"

The addressed elf took a deep breath as if to burry a burning rage before addressing the she-elf by his lord's side.

"Iareth?", he seemed to filter a few foul words before continuing,"Would that dirty piece of fabric happen to be my t _unic_?", he finished through gritted teeth.

The elf maiden joined the angry questioner and followed his gaze before bursting into laughter.

Through water, forest and the foreign wild, the travel tunic laid in the water by a mischievous she-elf had found its way back to its owner.

Iareth's reaction seemed to make the same effect as if she had slapped her victim.

"Why is my tunic there, Iareth?!" Arthon's tone rose dangerously. But even in anger, the elf could not have his emotions taken seriously.

"Well, I believe that throwing it in the river did not suffice", she spoke with a provoking tone as if to herself.

"You did what?!"

The pair began to argue in their own elvish tongue as all others watched with perplexity.

Except Legolas.

He stared at the stream, his eyes deep into void.

The restless water, ever in movement, creating a song of its own. Its waltz always caught his body, making him crave to follow its lead. And its song, deep, truthful or abrupt, created its melody from a world the elf did not know, but knew all the same, as any Eldar did. It had stolen his heart, like a woman in a light blue dress, dancing and singing with the wind. Her stare could bare his soul, find his memory. She could put her salted water in his eyes, water that often proved hard to be contained. She would stride and turn, like her ever-changing mood, deep or bold. She held out her hand to him, hoping to tighten her grasp upon him, to bring him in her calm dance, their bodies making one, as he waltzed with her in the sunset...

"Hir nîn?"

Pulled out of thought, Legolas turned to face Nildë, that watched him worriedly. It took a certain time before he realized what had

caught the elves' attention. Arthon and Iareth were now off their steeds, their faces inches from each other. Legolas left his horse and strode towards them before separating the angry pair.

"Alright, that is enough.", he ordered.

"She threw my tunic! IN A RIVER!"

Legolas turned to Iareth with a hint of annoyance in his features. He had no time to waste. Gondor had summoned them in urgency and solving childish conflicts was not to be called "coming in haste".

"Just take it and bring it with you, Arthon. We will wash it when we arrive at Minas Tirith."

The addressed elf indignantly looked at his lord before speaking.

"What about _Iareth_?"

Legolas felt like leaving them behind to solve their problems like true grown ups. Although, never was he able to even give it a try. His team depended on him with every inch of their being. He had made them who they were, and had kept them thus when difficult events led them astray. All their personal confessions, difficulties were known by their leader, that knew all of their way of thought.

But also did the team know him. So, at Legolas' "pronounced" reaction, they ceased their rivalry and put aside their personal pride for his sake. Arthon reached for his wet, dirty tunic. The elves mounted their horses, their feelings still hot from the conflict, but tamed by the cold stare of their leader.

The rest of the ride towards Minas Tirith remained as uneventful as possible with seven warriors crafted by the darkness and despair from the old days. They stopped twice, only to feed and provide water to the horses. When the white walls of the city of kings came into view, it's massive form towering The Pelennor fields, a sense of gratefulness with a strange sense of foreboding sneaked into the lord's thoughts. The last time he had been here, the great sea had called to him...

As they reached the great gates, a guard came to them and showed them the way to the final level of the city. Following the guard's directions, the elven team spurred their horses forward.

As he passed through the city, Legolas noticed how much the people had changed since his last visit, that had been a unknown length of time before. Everyone seemed to be happy, burden less. Children and women were not hiding and crying in despair for the arrival of loved ones that marched to war. In fact, children were looking at the pointy eared beings with an expression of awe drawn on their smooth faces. They were seen as legendary warriors, warriors that had fought armies of Balrogs and orcs to forge the Middle-Earth that people knew today. Legolas spotted a little girl, partly hidden in the folds of her mother's dress, gaping at him. He drew a small smile to her, inclining his head and the child reddened before hiding behind her mother's leg.

"Getting familiar with the locals already, are we?" Arthon asked him from atop his brown horse. "She's a bit young don't you think? Personally, I would have gone for the mother...", he laughed jokingly and winked at his leader, satisfied by his reaction.

Legolas stared at him, discouraged by Arthon's humor and looked forward again. Gondor was effervescing with activity. Small stands stood everywhere, their owners selling fruits, vegetables or small wooden toys for children. A few guards of the citadel were walking around, blending in with the people they protected. Children were running around, chasing each other and hiding from their parents. Although, at all levels of the city where the elves passed, people were staring at them in wonder. Except for their beautiful queen, they were probably the first elves that the people ever saw. Legolas' sun like hair seemed to attract the attention of many and numerous Gondorians seemed mesmerized by the elves' beauty. Arthon passed most of the ride looking at all the people he could, winking and declaring "Hi, I'm Arthon" every now and then.

When they finally reached the last level, they dismounted their horses and guards took their mounts to the stables. Legolas gazed around, trying to find a familiar taller figure, but Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Legolas began to worry even more: Would Aragorn not come and greet him?

A guard, probably in his twenties, led them to the royal court. As they paced across the stone floor, Legolas observed the structures decorating his surroundings. All walls, columns, doors were carved with extreme precision, illustrating patterns of true beauty. Baskets of flowers, tiny trees and different plants hung about contrasted with paleness and raw feeling of the white solid architectures. The help that the elves and dwarves had brought in the renewal of the white city had made its splendor even greater. The elf lord then turned his gaze to his right, contemplating the landscape that lay beyond. He imagined a rising sun laying its warm grasp of the cold walls of the city as night turned into day. He then knew where he would be found every morning.

The young guard continued his trajectory, the elves struggling to follow and see as much as they could at the same time. As Legolas followed closer behind the man, he realized he might have been wrong concerning his race. Through long and wavy, dark hair could be seen the sharp ends of pointy ears, though not as pronounced as thus of his people.

This could only mean he was not fully elven.

Legolas pushed away the thought, trying to keep his calm. Of course, it could not make sense. They had just wedded a few years ago...

"These will be the rooms assigned to you for your stay. You may choose that which agrees with your preferences. A supper will be served in the great hall at dusk. A bath can be found in your room with anything needed, and clean clothes can be found in the closet if a lack of yours is to show. Anything you will demand for is a pleasure to give. Any questions?"

His voice, also deep and light, his strong jaw, his grey eyes showing softness and empathy, his tall, muscular figure... It could not be.

Was he gone for so long?

Arthon stepped towards the guard to reach an alarming proximity before winking and declaring flirtingly:

"Hi, I'm Arthon"

The guard stared at him, confused, before slowly answering.

"Um... Hi, Arthon... I'm Eldarion. And I am actually,well do believe so, taken..."

The elf then entered a room with disappointment and loudly shut the door.

Eldarion. He had heard that name before.

 _"Well, marriage sounds wonderful, laddy. But I do not think that it should end there. Children are the key to the future lad. You could have one each year, perhaps make it a tradition..."_

 _"Gimli," Aragorn interrupted, "I will not make Arwen live through the process of giving birth every year. That would be way too demanding."_

 _Gimli mumbled something about dwarf women being tougher before Legolas stormed in the king's room, effervescing with excitement._

 _"Here is your crown. I also brou-"_

 _"Laddy, we are going through a really important conversation."_

 _"And what would it be?" Legolas asked Aragorn, eyeing him worriedly._

 _"Children, mellon nin, Children."_

 _Legolas stared, uncomprehending._

 _"What about children? Is anything wrong with them?" Legolas softly asked._

 _"_ Having _children, laddy," corrected Gimli,"You know, making a family of your own."_

 _The elf nodded in comprehension. A silence followed all three deep in thought. Aragorn shifted on his seat before breaking the silence:_

 _"Well, I will have your idea considered, Gimli. Though I do not have much skill with names."_

 _"We knew that,_ Strider _." Legolas friendly mocked with a wide smirk._

 _Aragorn stared at his friend in annoyance, then remarked:_

 _"You know that this happens to be the new royal lineage's name? The house Telcontar, Legolas, should not be thus mocked."_

 _Legolas cleared his throat to stiffen his laughter._

 _"Of course... My apologies."_

 _Aragorn stared at the elf in silence, ready to react at any insulting behavior. Which came soon enough. Legolas found himself unable to hold a giggle that escaped his lips._

 _"Are you laughing at the royal kin's name?" Aragorn asked, "Well, if I lack of skill and choose names so badly, do you have any worthy proposition?"_

 _Legolas' expression turned to concentration as he sought for a proposition._

 _"Well?", Aragorn asked triumphantly._

 _"Be patient," Legolas argued, "I am thinking."_

 _A long silence settled in the room as Legolas searched his mind for a name worth his friend's child. Then there it was, crafted in his mind, ready to be told for the first time._

 _"What about Eldarion?"_

 _"Son of the Eldar? Legolas, don't be ridiculous."_

 _"It makes sense", interjected the elf._

 _Gimli, visibly annoyed by the fact that he had no place in the conversation, pulled out the pair from their moment._

 _"Well I suggest that you get ready Aragorn, being late at a wedding ceremony brings bad fortune."_

 _Legolas raised his eyebrows before muttering to himself._

 _"Ai, Elbereth, will I ever understand dwarven superstition..."_

 _He wished that he would not, actually, for his dwarf friend was full of surprises he loved to discover every day._

 _"He is right, Aragorn," Legolas advised,"here put your crown on."_

 _"For the Valar's sake, Legolas. For the third time, I will not wear a crown at my wedding! " Legolas then grabbed the crown and threw himself on his friend, attempting to fit the royal heritage on the man's head. Both fell in loud laughter, Aragorn fighting hopelessly while he could only see golden strands waving about. In their frenzy, they did not realized that the crown of Númenor was now rolling slowly through the bars of the balcony..._

No. He would have known. Aragorn would have written to him, invited him to see his first child.

If Eldarion was in fact, his first child.

Legolas swiftly walked to the first door he saw, before being called by the guide.

"My lord Beriadan, a room has been prepared for your purpose. If you would follow me."

The guard then resumed his walk down the corridor, before turning to face a door on his right.

"If there is anything that you may come to need, you can simply ring the bell and a servant will be at your service. Enjoy your stay."

Eldarion spoke sympathetically, not to say familiarly.

He turned to leave, but interrupted his movements as the confused elf addressed him.

"Please excuse me for being intruding if I am to be," Legolas started, "But your face seems to have, um... Familiar features. Which makes me ask myself of your lineage, could you perhaps enlighten me?"

The guards expression seemed to turn to compassion before he replied.

"I am Eldarion, son of king Elessar."

Legolas restrained his emotions as best as he could.

He had missed the birth of his best friend's child.

He had not seen him grow and had not seen Aragorn's fatherhood grow with him.

If the king's son now seemed to be in adulthood, how long had he been gone?

The next moment, Legolas caught himself asking the young man where he could find Aragorn. The corridors seemed to last an eternity as he followed the prince to his best friend. As they came face to face with two large doors of dark wood, Eldarion gestured Legolas to enter and left, understanding the need for privacy. The elf stepped forward and faced the door for a few seconds before knocking so softly he did not believe he would be heard.

But he was.

"Come in." Simply said the king's voice as if his best and most missed friend was not on the other side of the door.

Legolas found his hand shaking as he put it on the doorknob. He drew in a deep breath, without managing to even identify all the torrents that waged within him. He felt guilt for not having tried harder. After all, had he been so busy? He felt angry. Angry about the fact that he had not heard a word of him and had not given any from himself either as all those years passed under their separation. He felt fear, fear of not being forgiven.

Or of being forgotten.

Never had Legolas let his feelings restrain what had to be done, which was probably the only reason why he finally twisted the doorknob and push the heavy door.

Though not as heavy as his eyes, that were automatically fixed on the stone floor as if drawn to it by some unknown force. He fought to raise them and finally succeeded, to see his friend, sitting calmly with his back to him, finishing some sort of paperwork.

The elf could see silver strands in alarming quantity in his friend's hair. His breathing, that he tried desperately to keep quite, accelerated dangerously as the urge to run away grew within him. Of course, he would stand his ground, face his mistakes, and be true to his foolishness. How could he let such a thing happen? That was the treacherous gap when immortals and mortals bonded. Time would be nothing for one and everything for the other. As much as Legolas knew of time, he had never realized the strength of its grasp on men until now. In barely an eye blink, their stories could completely change, and there was no turning back if you had missed it.

"Yes?"

Aragorn spun on his seat to greet his guest, and froze as he discovered his identity. His grey eyes met the ocean blue ones he knew but too well. He realized how much he had missed those eyes, craved to look into them and find the trust he could get nowhere else.

Then the anger came.

And they meet at last.

Elvish=

Hir nin: My lord

Elbereth: Also known as Varda, she is the Valar of the stars.

Meleth nin: My love

Eldarion: Son of the eldar

Elessar: Elfstone


	4. Tying Loose Ends

" _The old that is strong does not wither._ "

Bilbo Baggins

 **See chapter 1 for disclaimer.**

 **Authors' note: Hey everyone! We hope all of you are well. Sorry for the wait, we really wanted to set things correctly before the action starts. The next chapter is, well... Endless, so enjoy this chapter where things are finally (starting to be) explained.**

* * *

He was angry. Angry at himself for not doing more, angry at Legolas for not visiting or responding to his letters. But it did not last. Anger was soon washed away by regret, gloominess and nostalgia. Nostalgia of things that never happened and never would. How strange was it that human beings could miss what they never had?

Legolas stared at his friend's aged face. The feelings swelled inside him as water accumulated in his eyes. Nothing could be compared to the pain slowly building in his chest. He would have taken any torture over this, he would have taken any torture over seeing how old and mournful Aragorn seemed as his eyes laid on him.

Then it hit him. He had been gone for even longer than he thought. Despite all they had promised each other, he had managed to forget, managed to let years pass, not caring about his _brother_ slowly dimming away.

"I am _so_ sorry, Estel" He simply spoke, his voice wavering. There was nothing to be said, nothing that could bring the lost years back. The calm mask he usually put over his features was forgotten. Tears were slowly building in his dejected eyes. He could barely hold the stare of his old friend without breaking down and crumbling in despair. The elf had simply lived too much and this was the last string that held him being cut, mutilated by the knife of remorse.

The human's clenched fists seemed to loosen, his anger unexpectedly washing away. Although, something else grew within him as he stared at his long missed friend, something he had not ever felt in the elf's company before.

Aragorn laid his face in his palms, taking deep breaths, trying to understand, trying to muster the feelings invading his thoughts.

A long silence followed as both tried their best to hold back their tears. When he spoke, it was simply to know that Legolas would hear him once more.

" Thirty years," Aragorn whispered, his voice tight with emotions and unable to reach a louder tone,

"Three children, three decades of dreaming you were here. Wishing for you presence _every step of the way_." His slowly building voice broke before ceasing to wound Legolas' soul with every word.

How could he let such a thing happen?

Aragorn exhaled slowly to calm himself, in vain.

"You're angry", simply stated Legolas with guilt in his voice, his expression of remorse and concern betraying his stoicalness. It had been centuries since his emotions had been portrayed so truthfully.

Aragorn took some seconds before answering, still laboring to put order in himself.

"I thought I was, Legolas." He spoke the name with deep longing, to the point where Legolas began to question his. "But I cannot be. I cannot be angry, Legolas. Just... _disappointed_."

Disappointed.

Aragorn was disappointed.

If there was anything that Legolas ever feared to cause his friend, it was disappointment. All his life, the elf had given all he could to meet expectations, show people he could be trusted. But to have his best friend disappointed was telling him that all the work of his life had meant nothing, for at this moment, he had failed. He had failed Aragorn when he was in need of his presence, he had missed the moments of the settlement of his true life, the ones they would wonder about as they lay in the grass, resting from their ceaseless search for packs of orcs to hunt. When, in younger days, they leaned against a tree and watched the different shapes that the cloud would form against the light blue sky as they spoke of their possible life in times of peace.

* * *

 _"You should get married," tried Aragorn before continuing mischievously, "I am certain that every elf maiden in Mirkwood desires you."_

 _Legolas softly laughed before arguing._

 _"Why not have children, being at it?"_

 _"Being at it?" Aragorn questioned, "You mean to tell me that this has never been part of your plan?"_

 _"I suppose not..." The elf answered softly, a semi smile decorating his delicate lips, "Although, it must be part of yours."_

 _Aragorn turned away, a blossoming, deep smile on his face._

 _"Perhaps", he answered quitely._

 _A silence of deep content followed as they laid on the grass, their faces turned to the clear sky, decorated by a few clouds._

 _If they could have remained in this moment forever, they would without doubt have done it._

 _"I am certain that you will be an excellent father, Aragorn." Legolas simply spoke with sincerity._

 _The addressed man could not help to wonder if he would live to be one._

 _All those dreams, those ideas, leaned on the uncertainty of war, a monster that clawed at the life of too many before they could reach their desires. All warriors hoped to escape this fate and yet, few were granted their wish, for war was merciless. All those stories of future and eventuality would end in blood, violence and broken hearts._

 _Although, the pair preferred to look forward with optimism, even if sometimes they doubted in silence. They would imagine themselves as fathers, kings, people living a safe life._

 _"You will come, right?" Aragorn asked._

 _"What?", interrogated Legolas, not understanding the meaning of his companion's question._

 _"If I am to have children, you will come? I am afraid I will need as much help as I can gather."_

 _"Well Aragorn," Legolas replied while recalling his childhood, "I do not think that I will be of much help."_

 _"What are you saying?", Aragorn spoke with consternation, "You would be an excellent father. You are dynamic, curious, funny..."_

 _"... And without experience." Legolas finished._

 _"All new fathers lack of experience, mellon nin."_

 _Legolas decided not to answer. Aragorn was right. Although, new fathers had had their father before them as a model and Legolas had not. Yes, his father was present, but not as a parent. The only thing that the prince had learned from Thranduil was fighting, which was perhaps the only thing that linked them._

 _"Besides, I would want you with me even if you lacked of any talent in raising children."_

 _"Aragorn..."_

 _"No, do not question what I speak with your 'oh so praised elven wisdom'," the human declared half laughingly, "Legolas, if we are to see this war come to an end, I wish you to be with me when I cherish the perks of life, true life."_

* * *

But now it was too late. Aragorn's three children had grown and Legolas barely even knew one of them. His tears threatened to escape his blue orbs as he silently thought of what he should say to the man in front of him... His best friend that he had not seen in thirty years. Of course, he could blame it on the time that building a city required or on the fact that the only thing that had inhabited his mind lately was the great sea.

The sea.

Simply leaving would put an end to all his troubles, for the undying lands offered nothing but comfort and in his case, redemption. After all, the only thing that was retaining him on these shores was now also fading under the strength of the waves.

Aragorn was disappointed and the elf wanted nothing but to go back in the old days and keep these events from ever unfolding.

Only, time was never bendable. Any immortal sharing a bond with a mortal could confirm it and Legolas had made the mistake of letting the time pass.

When Legolas exited his trance-like state, he did not know how much time had passed. He could see Aragorn bent over his knees, still looking at him, not seeming to realize that the elf had completely drifted out of reality. The blond elf could not help but notice the small pearl-like tears shimmering in Aragorn's beard.

Legolas thought he would drown in the oppressing silence when Aragorn finally spoke, his voice like a hand pulling him out of the icy water.

"What happened Legolas?" The man asked, voicing his thoughts. "I sent you letters, so many that I did not even bother to count... Did you not read them?"

Legolas stared at him, his wretched expression turning to surprise. He had not received any letter... Although, he was not going to mention it. After all, he could have simply visited.

"Legolas?" The human couldn't help to be concerned by the tears slowly growing, filling the elf's infinitely sad eyes... He had never seen the prince like this before. In fact, Legolas had barely shown any emotion during his whole time accompanying the king of Gondor. He had been strong and unaffected by hurt, like a pillar to Aragorn for years, never wavering and always supporting him during harder times. The elf had hinted desperation only once, before the battle of Helm's Deep and even then, it had been founded and he had apologized for the act not a long time after. Aragorn knew and understood that for Legolas to be showing emotions meant that what he was living was beyond understanding, a representation of how the elves' sentiments were so much deeper that thus of the mortals. And yet, his mind did not seem to register it as he simply asked Legolas why he would have left him without a word, why he would never have given him any news... At this time, he simply could not understand the grief and guilt ravaging through the elf's body, him who would not even dare to defend himself in front of his old friend.

The human then understood that pushing the issue further would only wound the both of them deeper. As he passed his scarred hand over his solemn face he declared:

"I do not believe this conversation can heal any of our troubles at the moment. I need time to think Legolas and you obviously do too... Perhaps we should speak later, when our minds are clearer."

Legolas did not answer, afraid that his voice would abandon him in mid-sentence and so he left, closing the door behind and not even knowing why he had been summoned to Gondor in the first place.

Aragorn felt as if an apparition had left, having a hard time realizing that Legolas had really been standing in front of him.

* * *

When Legolas managed to find a way to his room, his vision and judgement clouded by emotions, he opened the wooden door and closed it in a hurry.

For a moment he simply stood in the middle of the room, thinking, trying to put order in his thoughts. He could barely believe that he had just spoken to Aragorn after thirty years of silence. And yet, this conversation had but worsened everything.

Suddenly, the elf couldn't take it anymore. He was strong, had been forced to be for all his life. But this was too much. Before he could even register it, his feet were taking him to the garden of Minas Tirith, the one he asked for himself all those years ago.

He wandered the corridors until he somehow found a door and pushed it. He inhaled deeply before taking his first step outside and pacing towards his destination, relaying on his flawless memory to find directions. He slowly crossed the courtyard, contemplating the carvings delicately drawn in the pale stone. The arch came into view as a smell of life filled the elf with comfort, reminding him of where he used to find true rest.

He entered the garden, smelling the perfume of the numerous flowers around him. He kept walking, heading for the fountain in the middle of the area, but stopped dead in his tracks.

There, on the bench, sat a figure that would haunt his thoughts for the rest of his eternity.

* * *

"I do not understand meleth nin, we have been friends, to my eyes, for eternity. He promised me Arwen, he promised me he would stay by my side until Mandos claimed me... How could this happen?"

Arwen caressed her beloved's troubled brow as she carefully listened to him. She admitted to herself that she was as surprised as her husband. It was not in Legolas' habitude to break his promises or to leave his closest friend for such a long length of time. She then realized how much she was thinking like a mortal, having been living with one for the last years... Legolas had probably not even seen the time pass. He was an elf, a being blessed with a never ending life. But she knew that, despite that, the elf prince would never have left his best friend without giving him any news.

"Estel, how did Legolas seem to you?"

The addressed man looked at her, puzzled.

"I... I do not know... I could barely realize he was truly here Arwen."

His eyes filled with carefully hidden tears yet again and Arwen slowly kissed them away, brushing a slightly grey strand of hair away from his face.

"I understand," she whispered in her deep soothing voice, "but there must be something we do not know that drove Legolas into doing this... I can see how much this grieves you Estel, but we cannot bring back years that have passed. We can only assure that the next ones will be filled with what you desire."

Aragorn gratefully smiled at his wife, his eyes still full of a longing that even The Evenstar could not wash away.

"You are right, as usual..." He declared lovingly, "Still, I cannot help but regret the fact that he missed the birth of our children... We used to talk about this, in times of war and he always told me he would be by my side through all that I would have to live."

He sighed, passing his right hand over his troubled expression.

"Perhaps I am being selfish... As you say, there might be things we do not know."

The king seemed thoughtful for moment, as if he was preparing himself to share an important secret with Arwen. The human suddenly seemed slightly worried, as if he had just realized some bad events would take place.

"He was nearly crying..." He whispered as if the words could not be pronounced out loud.

"What?" Arwen expressed, barely believing the words her beloved had uttered.

"He came to me soon after he arrived, we tried to discuss and the tears came in his eyes..."

Arwen looked at him, speechless. Something was not right... Legolas never expressed his emotions that way. His father had raised him in this manner, emotion was weakness and weakness sooner or later lead to your death on a battlefield. Only once had Arwen been the chosen witness of Legolas' emotions and yet, it was unwanted from the prince's side but he could not help it, the death of his mother and the rejection of his father being too much for him too handle during a few moments. Even then, his eyes had filled up with crystal clear tears that had never fallen.

"Estel... Perhaps I should talk to him" The elf queen declared.

* * *

As she stood, a familiar sensation invaded Legolas' heart. A feeling of longing for something that was far away, and yet so close. So distant, and yet easily accessible, if he would do but that one step.

She paced about, contemplating the diverse plants that slowly grew under the setting sun as her light blue dress followed, caressed by the soft wind. Legolas could not help but to stare.

Then she began to sing.

She joined the melody of the world as her feet softly began to move around, her body moving as in a waltz. Her soft voice tightened it's grasp on Legolas' being as he craved to join her in her peaceful dance. He wished to follow the unpredictable movements that carried her along, to understand the sudden hops and the calm waves of her body.

But he simply stood and stared, frozen.

As she spun around, her deep grayish blue eyes met his.

Legolas could distinguish the battling waters inside her orbs, colliding with remarkable strength and might. Serene, yet somewhat bold, her stare bared the elf's soul as never before. She smiled softly, which spread Legolas' lips without him noticing. She came forward as, behind her, the sun's color turned to light orange.

The elf hoped he could help with the chaotic emotions that invaded him. She simply smiled as normal gesture, and yet it took an all other meaning that struck him so deeply that nothing mattered but this exact moment.

Nothing.

The sea, the guilt, the grief, all pain had left him as she filled him with an impression of renewal and pure content, bringing him back into a world he had seen but through a wall of suffering. As he intended to bow, she held out her hand, invited him to waltz in the sunset with the one he most desired. As she grew in proximity, Legolas recognized a unique, reviving odor of untouched life, of endless purity and renewal found on the shores of the unknown.

He slowly entwined his fingers in hers, unable to utter any word of greeting or to look away from her hypnotizing gaze.

She somehow seemed to understand.

They slowly shook hands as she addressed him for the first time with her calm, light voice.

"Hi, I am Valwen."

Her simple language contrasted with the elaborate sensations she caused.

Often, the common tongue could not truthfully explain the complexity of feelings.

Legolas regained some of his composure before struggling out his response.

"I am Legolas", he managed.

She giggled truthfully before answering.

"I know."

Legolas looked down and saw that her hand was still in his. He pulled back, slightly ashamed.

He could not get his mind over it.

For a moment, the sea had waltzed before his eyes and now, he could not detach himself from the feeling of emptiness that filled him once more. Could he live in this manner? Unable to keep his mind as straight as before, disturbed by his troubled heart craving for the unreachable? He could not break his word. He had sworn to Aragorn. He has sworn that he would stay by his side until the end.

But he had already failed.

Three decades he had already missed as he stayed in this world for one purpose: his best friend. Had he lost it on his way through existence? He hoped not. Aragorn relied on him, trusted him. How could he ever regain what he had lost? Perhaps he could not. Perhaps there was nothing to be done. Perhaps he simply had to leave...

No.

He could not leave, or even think of it. Never had he before. Why would he now? It seemed that the more his promise gained distance in time, the more it gained distance with himself. His soul seemed to drown in nostalgia for a land he had never seen, for a feeling he had never experienced.

But Valar did he wish to.

All other purposes would fade away, losing what importance they had in better days. He would see nothing but the blue waters, crying his name, murmuring in his ear the lullaby he had hoped for in his childhood. There, he felt, he would be home. He would be where he belongs, where his heart awaited to reach. He would find a peace he had never found before in his times, times of war. Yes the world was peaceful, but not his. His world was...

Was not.

He had no world anymore. Only water. Only the endless, ever moving surface that inspired true melancholy. Sometimes, far away, he would have glimpses of his older world, of his friends desperately waiting for his return.

" _Legolas?_ "

An other soft and deep voice, carrying him away through the mists of the ocean, sinking him...

" _Legolas, todo dan nan ve._ "

As he was awakened by the tongue of his people, a fog seemed to clear from his eyes as he realized he was sitting on the bench, the Evenstar kneeling in front of him, her soft hand caressing his cheek.

It took only one look at the prince for the queen to understand what was plaguing the elf, what had kept him away for so long. She had seen it before, haunting the eyes of her mother after she had been left to the torturous hands of the orcs, but it was never at this extent. The longing in her friend's eyes seemed to have grown its roots for months, if not years. It was not the peaceful longing that called the elves home anymore, but a curse looming over the wood elf constantly, like a reminder that he would never find peace again.

"What have you done to yourself, mellon nin?", Arwen softly murmured with a grieved expression on her face,"How long has it been?"

Legolas choked out the answer as if all the painful time he had spent was now within those two words.

"Thirty years."

Arwen's features contorted in alarm and distress before she regained control over her emotions.

"You need to tell him, Legolas. He must know."

Aragorn. He had to tell him.

But how could he even speak to him?

Their last conversation had struck him, leaving him without the strength to face his friend again, or at least for now. He had let his mask melt, his barely contained tears were the proof of it. And he was weary. Valar, was he exhausted.

But Arwen was right.

Her wisdom struck him again as he realized Aragorn had to know. The man could not suffer in ignorance. Legolas had done this to him, now the king deserved the truth. The elf simply had to go to him, to tell him. Arwen looked at him, a pained smile decorating her features.

"I know it is hard for you to tell him, mellon nin... You do not have to do so now. Come now, you need to rest."

She held out her hand and he gratefully took it, raising himself from the marble bench. His head seemed to spin as Arwen took his arm, supporting him. The blond elf smiled apologetically to the worried glance the she-elf sent him.

"Arwen, please, do not worry... I am well, truly. I simply need some rest."

She unbelievably stared at him, but ignored her worry nonetheless, knowing that Legolas would only be bothered by too much fretting from her. She let go of his arm and followed him through the corridors to his room. As they reached destination, Legolas gave his gratitude with sincerity before advising the elven queen to return to her occupations. She respected his decision and departed, though her heart was still not convinced.

Legolas sank into the light covers, enjoying the comfort for a few moments.

Or so he thought.

A soft knock woke him, before he realized that it was already dark. Surprised, he pushed himself up and cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

He saw Nildë's head peek into the dark room from a thin opening by the door...

...Of the closet.

Did he hide there for so long? Legolas could not help his confusion.

"Nildë? How did- Where... Why are you in my closet?"

Even in the darkness, Legolas could distinguish his friend's cheeks blushing.

"Well, hum... There happens to be a secret passage leading to your closet... Do you mind? My apologies, I should not use-"

"It is fine, Nildë", the lord reassured him, after getting over the fact that a certain secret passage lead to his closet, "Is there anything you came to tell me?"

"Well, I... I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Is there anything you require? Some tea, perhaps? I can make you some if you wish... I heard chamomile was the best one for sleeping, if that's what you want to do of course. "

"Nildë."

"Or perhaps you would like to get up and go take a walk, I'll accompany you if you wish, of course. But you must be tired... Have you eaten yet?"

"Nildë."

"No, of course you have not. You were sleeping... How silly of me! Would you like a glass of water? I'm pretty sure a nice cold glass of water would wake you further... If that's what you want of course."

"Nildë, I am truly touched by your worry but I will be fine, thank you."

Quickly but gently replied to the addressed elf, before Nildë could continue his shy rambling.

Nildë seemed to simply stand there for a moment before he realized he was asked to leave.

"Right..." He muttered to himself as he left.

Legolas sighed.

A secret passage leading to his closet.

For a split second, he thought of blocking it with all his might.

He gingerly got out of the covers, exposing himself to the cold air. Cold? Elves were not supposed to feel the changes of temperature. He rose himself, pushing the strange feeling aside. He walked to his closet, opening with caution before choosing a light blue tunic to change into. The lord looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he should braid his hair but decided against it before noticing the slightly dark circles under his eyes. He looked away, tired of observing the empty shell he had become.

Empty shell.

Shell.

Those glittering jewels laying upon the sand, like stars that we contemplate from above. Stars you can reach out to grasp. Those treasures that laid calmly by the ocean...

The ocean.

A place where earth is sky, where eternity is surrounding you on all angles, where you can reach and grab the stars.

Why would he delay in this world he slowly was consumed in?

He had reached a point where he was simply desperate for liberation.

And yet, he could not possess it.

His oath bound him to the earth, and to break it was in no possible way a form of freedom. Never would he be free from his word, though he would not regret giving it in the first place. He would honor it until it was fulfilled.

Or until his last breath.

Elves did not usually include death in a promise, but the state in which Legolas had been in for some time now arose doubt in his usually certain mind. He had heard stories of his people, some incapable of bearing the heavy longing radiating through their being as it radiated in his.

No, he would bear it for Aragorn. Anything, he had promised himself to face for his dearest friend, and now was the time to prove his will.

But what if he faltered?

What if he could not bear it? He would be left with the responsibility of choosing between death and betrayal. He knew what Aragorn would prefer. He would plead him to depart. Legolas simply wished he did not have to hear his friend say it. How harder would it be for the elf to ignore is desire if his friend had the same. He needed him to help rebuild his will to stay, not to prove his craving to be rightful. Hopefully, the man would understand and keep the suggestion to himself.

If he was not to, Legolas doubted he could restrain himself.

How empty, pointless Middle-Earth felt as Belegaer demanded his presence. The shell he had become was slowly getting dug out of the hard sand by the soft caresses of the old waves reaching shore, and his grip on the world was slowly weakening.

Or perhaps quickly.

In only thirty years, he had seemed to lose himself to the cries of gulls, and now his cries nearly joined theirs.

"Legolas!" The alarmed voice rang to his ears.

His eyes focused on Aragorn's terrorized expression, inches from his. He then realized he was sitting on the floor, having collapsed without his acknowledgement.

"For the Valar's sake, mellon nin, what has happened to you?"

Legolas emptily looked at him, as if he had barely acknowledged the man's presence. To the human's uncontainable surprise, the elf cast his eyes down in what was seemingly shame. Aragorn put his fingers under Legolas' chin raising the elf's head to meet his gaze.

"I am so sorry Estel..." The elf said, the tiredness longing and despair blinding his senses and finally catching up with him. The grip he had not even realized he had on his friend's tunic tightening as tears started to fill his eyes once more...

His father was right, emotion was weakness and sooner or later it would be his end.

All anger and disappointment forgotten, Aragorn moved Legolas so that the elf's head would be sitting on his. The king tried to soothe the elf, caressing his back with one hand and his hair with the other.

The man felt his friend's back raising with every short breath he took, and the human could not help but to tighten his hold.

Never was he angry at Legolas.

He had been angry at the situation, angry at the fact that they had missed thirty years together. He had never deemed it Legolas' fault. He was definitely not blaming his best friend for this grieving situation.

He just realized that Legolas was.

Of course the elf would take the blame in silence. Why did he not tell him it was not because of him?

He soothed Legolas and murmured in his ears.

"It is not your fault." He kept repeating, hoping it would reach the cuddled elf's heart.

As he sat at such a proximity with Legolas, he realized how his friend had brutally changed.

The warrior he had known was unbreakable, ready for any daring adventure. Never would he weaken, never would he despair. He would raise his bow and shoot down a Nazgûl, he would jump, kill an Oliphaunt and casually slide back to the ground.

 _Endowed with the tremendous vitality of Elvish bodies, so hard and resistant to hurt that he went only in light shoes over rock or through snow._

The friend he had known was caring, caring for all living things. He would do all in his power to make his friend smile. He would be simple, joyful, with a strong, tireless will. Any emotional unease never seemed to reach him, and his blue orbs stared about with curiosity and fascination.

Where was the Legolas he knew?

Leaning in his arms, in this ultimate moment of weakness.

 _The most tireless of the whole fellowship._

The human couldn't believe how they had reached this point. Both sprawled on the ground, one trying to stay strong while the other enfeebled. Arwen had told him about the sea longing, had told him how hard it at seemed to take it's toll on Legolas, but Aragorn had never expected it to be this intense. The sea longing was supposed to be a peaceful call that would invite you back to a homeland you had yet never visited. Although, for the lord of Ithilien, this stage was far gone.

"Legolas," the man began slowly and softly, "mellon nin, if this hurts you this much then please, do not take this suffering upon yourself and sail... I would never blame you for it, I can see how much it pains you."

Aragorn could feel on his shoulder the elf shaking his head, he understood that his friend was not able to talk for the moment but could not fathom why he would not grant himself the peace he deserved.

"Legolas, please, listen to me mellon nin, I cannot see you in such pain... You deserve none of this. If you worry about the fact that Ithilien needs it's Lord, then do not. I wi-"

"I cannot leave you."

He heard it, muffled by the weakened voice and the thickness of his tunic, but no word had lost it's strength and meaning.

Legolas Greenleaf could not depart to the undying lands because of a mortal.

An elf was bound to Middle-Earth because of him and it was not Arwen, but Legolas, the son of a king who had diminished mortals for centuries.

"Legolas, please-"

"No", Legolas cut him, "Aragorn I am to _plead_ you. You have my word and it shall not be broken. After all these years we have lived apart... there are so many moments I wish to live with you." The elf acted strong, keeping his voice from breaking, "The longing can wait, Aragorn. I have a whole eternity for the sea and nothing but a handful of years with you. Let them not be wasted. I need you to want me here. Your will is mine, and I hope it will not be the desire for me to leave, for yet a greater longing would then settle in my heart. And I do not want you to grow old on your own. I wish to be by your side until the end, Aragorn, just as we have set out all those years ago. If you do not demand of me to be here, then nothing strong enough will keep me from sailing... I am sorry to ask this of you-"

This time, it was Aragorn who interrupted.

"Legolas. I understand. Perhaps I do not fully agree with all your choices, but know this: I will always second you in your decisions, mellon nin. And never will I doubt your judgement. Now we can do this together, Legolas. We will get you out of this. All this time that we have missed, we have it now." The human smiled softly, desired moments suddenly blossoming in his mind, "We will do picnics in the garden, story telling by a camp fire, we will cook bad food and make ourselves eat it until we gag..." a soft laugh escaped his lips, "We can still do those things, and we will. We will free your heart of this longing as much as we can. I want you with me Legolas and Valar I thought it was selfish of me to think like this...Do you understand?"

Tears, once again, swelled in the elf's deep blue eyes.

"I do, Estel. I do."

* * *

"I must admit, this one was slightly too easy... Alright, who am I now?"

Arthon declared in front of the whole team as he started to imitate a man vomiting.

"Hmm... Well that would be Cadworon." Iareth guessed before even realising how offensive Arthon's imitation had been.

"You think that laughing at people's weaknesses is funny?!" The concerned elf declared, his imposing body appearing even more menacing than usual.

Arthon was trying to contain his laughter as Cadworon's emotions grew fiercer.

"He does have a point Arthon," started Erwath, "it is no condition to laugh about."

"Oh calm down," Arthon laughingly said, " it's better than crying about it don't you think?"

A silence followed before the elf broke it with incredible enthusiasm.

"Fine! I'll make another one..."

The elf proceeded to line the chairs from the table that stood at the back of the room, in a way that there was a space between each of them. He then climbed upon one of them and started leaping from one to another with an exaggerated stoicalness. As he was about to land on a certain chair, Helegon moved it slightly to the side, chuckling in silence as Arthon crumbled to the ground.

"Well," started Iareth laughingly, "at first, I would have said Legolas but your landing would rather make me think that you were imitating yourself."

The team laughed as Arthon difficultly managed to his feet, rubbing his head.

Apparently, the lightness of the elves was of no help against the effects of falling.

"That was cruel, Helegon." The fallen elf said angrily.

Helegon lifted an eyebrow in triumph, enjoying the moment when he finally managed to surprise Arthon with his wickedness.

The morose elf then put the chairs back in place before breaking the common laughter with a louder tone.

"Alright! A last one!" He said walking in front of them, his back to the door.

He then contorted his features into a caricatured serious expression.

"Behold my stern eyebrows of doom!" He yelled with a deep, loud voice.

"Thranduil", Iareth simply murmured as if in alarm.

"Not bad Iareth!", screamed Arthon in enthusiasm before murmuring, "I did not know I was that good."

"No. I mean, it actually _is_ Thranduil." Corrected Iareth.

"Well, of course! Who do you think I am imitating?"

"No, Arthon..."

The she-elf's gaze then shifted to stare behind Arthon, who turned around to identify what caused such a heavy silence in the room.

"Has your maturity ever developed since childhood, warrior?"

A tall figure stood by the door, slender, yet slightly menacing. The team knew the shape that slowly approached, the light, yet imposing steps that were headed towards them. The long robes, heeled boots, platinum hair...

The king of Eryn Lasgalen had come to Minas Tirith.

He broke the silence with a severe tone.

"Now, can any of you tell me where Legolas is?"

* * *

Elvish=

Mellon nin: My friend

Iareth: Blood female

Erwath: Lone betrayer

Arthon: Exalted male

Nildë: Friend

Cadworon: Shapely male

Helegon: Ice male

Tolo dan nan ve: Come back to us


	5. Brothers

**Author's note: Well, this chapter has quite an history. We wrote it on our way back from a trip, in a bus and an accident happened just in front of us between a truck and a car. We didn't even notice until our bus stopped because we were too busy writing chapter 5 and 6. Ah the things writing does to a person...**

 **Anyways, we thought you would want to know that the Thorin named in this chapter is Thorin III Stonehelm, son of Daín and not Thorin Oakenshield (we won't bring back the dead like that... This isn't Supernatural).**

 **Sorry for the wait and thank you to all our readers!**

 **See chapter 1 for disclaimer.**

 _"When the seas and mountains fall and we come to end of days, in the dark I hear a call..."_

Bilbo Baggins

* * *

 _Fear. Some may call it reason, others may call it folly. It can be a fuel or rather a limitation. Its power though, is no less invading in any case. Fear radiates through the body, sharpens the mind to detect the undetectable and urges the heart to grow in speed. The power of fear is a pure, drastic energy, a flow of strength and awareness that runs through our veins and pushes beyond limit._

 _Some may feel it, even in the distance._

 _One in particular woke from deep rest within a world of nothingness. The first thing that came to the awakened from a world that had long been his desire was fear. Not individual fear, but fear itself. Its power aroused the being, flowed through it as the terror of the living grew within it, fed it with might as the one spoke it's first words to the surrounding void._

 _"Ai, brother, thou hast not forgotten me. I can feel thy dread and thus of our children. They know what awaiteth them."_

 _Time seemed to cease as a last threatening word escaped the inexistent._

 _"Emptiness."_

* * *

Aragorn and Legolas were now completely silent. They had moved to the bed, their backs leaning on the wooden structure as they were still sitting on the ground. The elf had his golden head resting upon the human's shoulder, his strength weakened by the earlier ordeal. He was fighting for his eyes to remain open, refusing to believe that the longing had enfeebled him this much. He used to be able to function without resting for weeks, battling dark creatures days on end to protect the life of his people.

"Legolas, go to sleep..." The human murmured.

"Aragorn I-"

"Legolas, you are exhausted. You can barely keep your eyes open, mellon nin."

The truth was that the elven lord did not want to miss this moment for the world. Learning that his best friend had forgiven him for everything that had happened freed his shoulders from such a burden that he physically felt light-headed. Of course, he understood that Aragorn would still hold anger against him or, as the human said, the situation.

"Aragorn... I must tell you, for the sake of your understanding, I never received any of the letters you have spoken of."

The king of Gondor questionably looked at him, at first not seeming to understand when a flash of comprehension passed through his gaze.

"None of them... How is this possible?" Declared Aragorn, astonished.

"I do not know... And you obviously did not receive mine either."

"And so you did try to contact me... Legolas why did you not mention this before?" Spoke the king, who could not believe that his friend had not informed him of thi matter. He willed himself to keep a gentle tone all the same, remembering how Legolas was already struggling to keep his emotions under control.

"I do not know... You said you were disappointed and I supposed you needed time to reflect on your emotions. You were clearly distressed and I did not wish to put more strain upon you. Aragorn, I know these last years have asked a lot from you and I could not bear to add more worries to the ones you already carry."

Aragorn looked at him, his gaze a mix of pity and fondness and, beyond all, admiration for the selfless being that sat beside him.

"Legolas, I do not know what you understood from the words I have spoken and there is no need for you to tell if it goes against your wishes, but know that it was never in you that I was disappointed. Never."

Legolas gratefully smiled at him, putting aside the fact that he had never wanted to see pity in his friend's eyes, pity for an elf on whom the human had relied on for his whole life.

Legolas was about to speak when voices were heard from the other side of the door. At first, Aragorn recognized the voice of his son, who seemed to be forbidding entry to an other. Then Legolas recognized the voice that ordered the guard to move aside. The deep, cold threatening tone on the other side of the door pulled a sigh out of the elf lord, to see his friend asking for an answer through a concerned look. Legolas then whispered his answer in discouragement.

"It is my father."

Before Aragorn could express his surprise, a tall form burst into the room. Thranduil froze as his drapes finished their soft wavy motion. His features seemed to move from an expression of disgust, to surprise and what seemed like concern. He quickly regained composure before asking with the attempt of a detached tone:

"What is happening here?"

Upon contemplating longer, the king could not restrain his discouragement.

"You are even worse than I let myself think, Legolas", Thranduil simply voiced.

The friends both looked at the elven king with a questioning glare.

"What do you mean by this?", Aragorn asked, in lack of understanding.

"Well," Thranduil began accusingly, staring at his son, "since I did not know you were alive for some time, I allowed myself to think of you as dead. As it turns out, it is obviously worse than my expectations: you are sitting on the ground and laughing with a man. You do look dead, though. Do not let yourself be mistaken."

The younger elf stared at him, not uttering a word. The silence prolonged, getting uncomfortable, even for the two immortals. Aragorn cleared his throat, raising himself from the ground in the process.

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, King Thanduil."

"I have been here for two days. I suppose you were quite busy."

The two friends turned their heads, both staring at eachother with wide eyes before bursting into desperate chuckles. The elven king stayed in incomprehension as the two sitting friends unsuccessfully attempted to contain their giggles of hopelessness regarding the situation.

The elvenking raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to react to the pair's child-like behavior.

"Legolas, we need to talk." He declared, leaving no space for arguing.

The prince raised himself, leaning on the bed for support as Aragorn hovered next to him, assuring himself that the elf would be fine. Legolas then proceeded to follow his father out of the room, sending silent thanks to Aragorn by bowing his head.

Aragorn was left with his tormenting thoughts, undisturbed by the silence, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

* * *

The elven king closed his room's door behind him, a threatening silence sealing his lips. Legolas could do nothing but wait with aprehension.

His father turned to a wooden table that stood by the window and uncapped a bottle of wine before beginning to pour the beverage into two delicately carved glasses.

"How is Ithilien?" Thranduil simply asked.

The young lord knew of his father's ways. His casualty was a common attitude he adopted before what could be identified as, considering the kings constant emotionless attitude, an outburst. Legolas had often been a victim of the king's displeasures and now knew how to identify them and, at times, even prevent them.

This time, it would not be the case.

"It is good, I suppose." Legolas softly spoke, foreboding what may come.

"Excellent," the king expressed with exaggerated, unreal enthusiasm, "Then I suppose you have created a life of your own."

The room fell quiet for a moment of an eternal duration for the fearful elf, before the monarch continued.

"Well, how was it?" He questioned, his voice ever growing in menace.

Legolas gazed at him questioningly, demanding him to elaborate.

"Being part of the quest to destroying Sauron the deceiver." He specified with a bitter tone.

The angry elf's son recognized the patterns that were used. He slowly directed his statements to the targeted subject, warning his victim, filling them with guilt and fear before his actual reaction. "The worst cruelty comes from ourselves." He would say to explain his manners. His techniques left the ignorant, yet partially knowing mind to its own imagination, fed by dread and terror. It would let the concerned victim imagine the worst for themselves, leaving the king with the only duty of adding a bit of reality for inspiration purposes.

Legolas searched for words that would tame his interrogator, but found himself tired of useless patterns his father used. He was too wearied for strategies and plots, he wanted the truth.

"What is it that you have to tell me, my king?"

Thranduil stared at his son's blue eyes furiously before correcting him, his gaze still into the other's.

"I am not your king anymore. That, you should know."

For the first time since his mother's departure to the hall of Mandos, Legolas heard a curious thing in his father's crude tone.

Pain. It was pain.

Small and distant, yet present and true, it invaded his intern being and rose up his throat, beyond his resistance.

The elven king kept his glare locked in thus of the one that resembled painfully to the woman he loved and, with the most neutral tone he was capable of managing, broke the other silence that lay heavily on the being facing him.

"A messenger usually returns after his task, Legolas."

The addressed elf then understood. On that day, during the 3018th autumn of the third age, the prince was sent as a messenger to Rivendell to announce Gollum's escape and never returned. No word was received from his part, no news of his well being or ill fate was heard or read aside from the warriors who had told the king that his son had been sent to a quest that would most likely claim his life.

An agreement had settled the two elves' relationship in a time of grief and despair. The king, destroyed by the loss of his wife, was invaded by thoughts of departure, departure in any way. The people were losing hope while desperately fighting the darkness that attempted to invade their territory. Legolas, doing what he could, found his father as grief was striking him more strongly and the envy of giving up grew in his heart.

 _King and prince before father and son._

They had concurred on this phrase, they let it define every of their actions, words, intentions. Their strength was found in the need of their people and, with time, they quickly forgot the pain that struck their soul and took the habit of fulfilling duty without sentiment. As a pair, they built a strength of their own, their silent accord stood through the centuries, and when the king would tarry on the shadows of an afflicting past, the prince would remind him of their promise, their oath, to the people of the woodland realm and to themselves.

But, as the prince departed, never to return, the king realized how much he depended on Legolas, what functioning was installed based on the young elf's presence. His absence left an emptiness in the kingdom, a gap in the king's reasoning. Never before had he realized the importance of his son-prince's company, how somewhat he was necessary to the people's well-being.

At first, he believed the prince would return after the war of the ring, that he would recover his position as member of the royal lineage and all would return to normal. No, Legolas could not die in this hopeless quest. Thranduil believed the constancy that had made them live through an existence of hardship and mourning would return with him as green leaves are restored amongst the branches of trees in spring.

" _My little greenleaf._ "

He would hear her say it. The one that woke something in him that would now sleep for eternity. The one that enamored his soul before unforgivable odds broke it. The one to whom he had promised to protect their little greenleaf forever.

The king was now angry. Not only angry, he realized. He stared at his son as a feeling grew inside him.

Disappointed.

Thranduil was disappointed.

Without guilt or remorse, the elf shamelessly voiced it.

"I am disappointed, Legolas. Truly. And I have found that to be your fault."

Legolas cringed, having heard about disappointment far too many times in two days. Although, he understood his father's wrath for it could not have been easy for him to lose his only heir in a quest that Thranduil himself thought pointless.

The king sipped his wine, his accusing glare still deposed on Legolas over the rim of his glass.

"I understand." The prince declared.

The elven king deposed the cup on the table, seemingly doing all in his power to avoid slamming it on the floor.

"In fact, Legolas, I do not think you do!" Furiously declared Thranduil, while standing up at a surprising speed.

His tall form came dangerously close to Legolas, his long hair and drapes following like a specter behind him.

"I sent you to report about a vile creature that escaped from your hands, by your fault, and you decide without the order of your king to 'embark on a journey that will secure the faith of Middle Earth'. That, to later decide on your own that it was acceptable for you to declare yourself lord and rebuilder of Ithilien! Luckily, I gave my consent, to which you did not write back!" The king spat, anger and disgust clearly displayed in his voice.

His head got closer to thus of Legolas, much like the way it had all those years ago when he was argumenting with Thorin Oakenshield. Like the wretched dwarf, Legolas stood, unmoving.

"But then, if it was 'only' for that," He took a step back, "I would simply be angry."

Legolas tiredly looked at him. The earlier events having taken all that was left of his thin strength. Now was definitely not the time for talks that would tie loose ends from years of a strained relationship. The king stayed silent for a moment, taking in the sight of his son who looked completely exhausted. He had noticed this when he entered Elessar's room earlier, but that would not keep him from having a conversation with his son after years of silence.

"One letter, one answer would have sufficed, Legolas. Just to let me- _your people_ know that you were alive and well!"

Legolas frowned, alive yes, but _well_...

"I did write to you," the young elf declared, "more than once. I even asked you for Mirkwood to become the ally of my land but I never received an answer. And never have I received a letter from the Woodland realm. "

"Then I suggest you have a conversation with you messenger, _my lord_ , for there might be a betrayer among your ranks."

Legolas gazed at the king, astonished. The king returned the look, his icy eyes as menacing as ever.

"Do not make this face Legolas, we both know something strange is at work..."

"I do not see what you mean." The blond elf answered. Thranduil looked at him as if he had just uttered the most witless words in the history of Middle Earth.

"Have your senses become so dull that you could decide to build a relationship with a dwarf?" The king's tone was bleeding sarcasm.

Legolas decided not to mention Gimli, knowing it was not wise to say so when the king was angry.

"Surely you have felt it..." Thranduil stated.

"Felt what?"

"How could you not notice? Legolas, you have lived amongst the trees for your whole existence. You exchanged all those memories, all those feelings with them and you did not realize anything? They have grown fearful, Legolas. At night, they shiver in the wind. It is only the end of summer and some of them have already adopted the color of sunset. Have you not seen that? And it is only the trees I mention. Every living thing seems to be foreboding some unknown shadow, an old shadow about to return. A new age has started indeed Legolas, yet there is no such thing as peace. At a certain point, the living will understand that. What has happened to you, Legolas? Has your title made you blind and witless? Have you not asked yourself why your presence has been demanded in Minas Tirith?"

The elf prince stayed silent for a moment, realizing how much the sea longing had affected him and driven him away from the forest he had always cherished.

"I was distracted..." Legolas answered, a certain hopelessness in his voice.

"Distracted? By the valar's sake Legolas! Whatever this is, it is visibly not just _distracting_ you, you seem more tired than ever and your attitude could depress a halfling."

The younger elf stared at his untouched glass of wine, deciding to avoid the topic his father had opened.

"Do you know why we have been summoned to Gondor?"

"Did you not ask your _friend_ yourself?" Thranduil asked as he sat back in his chair, watching his son stand in the middle of the room.

Legolas thought about all that had happened with Aragorn in the last days. No, he had definitely not talked to him about anything that had something to do with his presence in the white city.

"I will take this as a 'no'. " The elven king stated," There is to be a council Legolas. About what, I am not certain yet. Although, I would not be surprised if it was about what I mentioned earlier, the fact that lords from many kingdoms are expected here is but a clue. " He took another sip of his wine, "I suppose that the reason pushing king Elessar to organize a council will be further explained during the event itself. In the meanwhile, we are to wait like ignorant children."

"Lords from other lands you say... Do you know whom?"

Thranduil glared at him.

"I have been here for two awfully _long_ days and the only thing I know, is that this so named Valwen is completely out of her mind and without doubt in need of help from... Anyone."

" _Hi, I am Valwen._ "

Legolas knew that name. Those simple syllables he had linked to a woman dancing in the sunset. A glimpse of Belegaer waltzing amongst the form of life his heart used to rest in. A voice, strong and soft, with a deep melody as her hand reached out to him...

"Legolas?"

The lord of Ithilien blinked himself out of his daze, now seeing the questioning look of the king of Mirkwood analyzing him. He sat down in the chair at the opposite side of his father and swallowed a gulp of wine, trying to ground himself. The elven king stared at him, mystified by how Legolas Greenleaf had just drunk his wine.

"Something I said?" He asked. But Legolas never had time to answer for a servant knocked on the door and announced that supper was served.

* * *

"... And so, this is how I ended up jumping off the tree and using my bow to slide on a spider's thread that was linked to another tree. While I slid, some twenty spiders came at me, but I managed to kill them all with a single hand. Of course, that saved the whole team from certain death. Then, I jumped off the thread and while doing a backflip in the air, I shot five other spiders with my bow. Then, I landed on another spider that was about to attack Iareth (who had fallen on the ground) and killed it. Of course, I did not mention that I had a broken wrist and ankle because Cadworon had made a spider jump on me. But still, I managed to save the day!"

"Amazing!", exclaimed Valwen with enthusiasm.

Arwen laughed to herself, seeing her daughter's enthusiasm.

"Yeah," dismissively confirmed Arthon, "I do that often." The elf winked.

"You actually believe that?" Asked the young woman at Valwen's side while letting her silverware fall on her plate with discouradgement, displaying a true lack of interest for the story teller.

"No, I do not, Lostariel", she happily answered, "but I do admire his imagination."

Disappointed, Arthon turned his attention back to his food, thinking of a knew flirting strategy.

At this moment, the elven king and lord entered, installing a curious silence around the table. Aragorn immediately stood, seeming to have waited for this moment.

"Well," He began, "I believe some introductions are in order. He gestured to the taller and seemingly more morose elf and began presentations,"I would like you to mee-"

"Thranduil, king of Eryn Lasgalen." Thranduil cut the human shamelessly.

Legolas turned to him with a questioning look, showing his lack of understanding.

"Eryn _what_?" He murmured.

His father answered with a loud blaming voice.

"That is _right_. _Eryn Las-ga-len_ ", he articulated, slightly exagerating.

He then glanced at Ithilien's elite team before declaring without trying to tame his desire for retribution.

"I forgot to mention my gratitude to you all, elite team of _Eryn Lasgalen_. I truly thank you for your sudden betrayal."

He then chose his seat without waiting for permission, never regretting the uncomfortable silence he had caused. Arthon laughed awkwardly as an attempt to lower the tension before asking as casually as he could.

"Hehehem... What betrayal would that be, may I as-"

"You may not." Thranduil cut sharply.

Iareth sighed at Arthon's stupidity before explaining him the issue.

"Perhaps that betrayal would be the fact that we left for Ithilien without official permission, Arthon."

"Oh, right!", He exclaimed, slightly too loud. "Well, you have all our official apologies my king."

Thranduil glared at him threateningly, still unforgiving, which made the younger elf shrink in his chair.

As the conversation went on, Legolas contemplated what lay upon the long table. Salad, turkey, vegetables, potatoes, bread, all that could be asked for was present. Legolas noticed the meat to be only in a few plates, those being the king's, Faramir's and Eowyn's.

Legolas recognized the woman and addressed her a smile, realizing how age had brutally changed her. She smiled back, realizing that age had somehow changed an immortal's face too.

Or was it age?

That, she would perhaps never know.

Legolas then glanced around, contemplating the thin but high windows surrounded by elaborate carvings. The high ceiling and the solid walls reminded him of the kings of old, tall and proud, as his best friend had ever stood since his coronation.

Or so he thought, for he was not there.

"Well, as I was saying," Aragorn continued, "some introductions are to be made. Legolas this is my daughter Valwen."

"We met," Joyfully specified Valwen.

Legolas tried his best not to stare at her or what he saw through her, keeping his mind in the present moment.

Her skin, pale and unified as white sand, soft under naked feet, delicate reliefs tracing graceful features...

She was Aragorn's daughter. The last of his best friend's children and Legolas could barely keep his eyes off her. She reminded him of the aesthetic place he could not reach. For what reason, he did not know. There was something about her, something Legolas could not pinpoint that made her presence stand over all others. His thoughts were snapped back to reality when Aragorn continued the presentations, a proud smile plastered on his sharp features.

"And here is my other daughter, Lostariel. Lostariel, this is lord Legolas of Ithilien." The human said, his hand directed towards a woman whose long dark brown hair fell in a braid behind her back, a few loose strands of hair were tucked behind her slightly pointy ears.

She was unmistakably Aragorn's daughter, with her sharp features and determined look. It took only one glance at her for Legolas to understand that she was strong and fierce, far from being a princess that would always pay attention to her manners and appearance. In fact, her shape was thus of a warrior and he couldn't help but think about Iareth or Tauriel at her sight. The elf lord could see that the young woman had a temper much like the one of Iareth and he could not help but smile at the thought of Aragorn struggling to discipline his older daughter.

"It is an honor to meet you, my lady." The blond haired elf declared, bowing his head.

"Can you really shoot a Nazgul?" She asked casually. Legolas was slightly taken aback by the question, wondering if Estel had told her about the ordeal that unfolded next to the Anduin river.

"Lostariel!" Aragorn whispered blamingly.

" _Apologies_ ," she corrected herself, " the honor is all mine, my lord." She smile politely, also bowing her head. Though Legolas could easily perceive that she was not one for formal meetings.

"Well," Arthon interrupted, "it might be an honor for you to meet her, Legolas, but I must say, my noble lady, that it is a greater honor for _me_ to gaze upon your fiery beauty!" He winked, yet again.

Lostariel stared at him, completely unattained by Arthon's manners.

"This is so kind of you," Valwen stated, "you should be grateful, sister." She smiled softly.

Thranduil rolled his eyes from his seat next to Legolas while all the elite team grunted in unison. Arthon's questionable manners were then never to cease. Aragorn stood, seemingly uneasy after the elf's subjective statement. He tried to control his overprotective urge to apostrophe Arthon. After all, Lostariel was old enough to decide with whom she would want to spend the rest of her life.

Thranduil rose from his seat, clearly discouraged.

"I must admit that, now that your manners are displayed, I find myself truly honored by your betrayal, Arthon." On these words, the king left the room.

There was a long and uneasy silence as Arthon began to understand the meaning behind the king's statement.

"Eldarion should be joining us shortly. Legolas, you have already met him I suppose?" Aragorn declared before Arthon said something he would regret.

"Yes, I have." The elf answered.

"What is he doing?" Valwen asked, playing with her fork in the salad that decorated her plate.

"I believe he was training the recruites," Aragorn answered. "And Valwen, please do not play with your food."

There was another silence, when Valwen started humming, her soft voice echoing in the room.

"Oh sure Legolas, don't introduce us!" Iareth blamed.

Legolas seemed to come back into the world of the living as he sluggishly blinked and slowly moved his gaze on the she-elf.

"Oh right, my apologies," he said, looking as if he had juste woken up "Meet the elite team of Mirkwood, and now of Ithilien. This is Nildë, second in command."

The shy elf bowed his head and Legolas was about to continue the presentations when Eldarion entered, the sound of his boots hitting the floor making every pair of eyes turn towards him.

"My apologies, I am late." He declared, sitting in the empty chair next to his father.

"Well you arrive at a good time," Valwen declared, " Legolas was just introducing his friends to us." She smiled while turning her attention to the blond elf again.

Legolas received his name from her lips as if for the first time. Her voice, soft and melodic to his sensible ears, gave to his name a whole new meaning, a strengthened importance. Yet again, he found himself bewildered by her beauty against his will, before having his reverie interrupted once more.

"Good work, Legolas. Only five to go." Falsely encouraged Arthon, eager to be presented.

"Yes," Legolas answered to confirm his returned attention, "patience, Arthon."

He then softly gestured towards Cadworon as he specified his name and position.

"This is Cadworon, our expert in hand to hand combat."

"Good evening", he politely saluted.

He then heard Arthon whisper to himself with a serious lack of subtlety.

"I'm good at hand to hand combat too..."

"Arthon, stop being so full of yourself." Iareth ordered, obviously annoyed.

Legolas then continued with a more strict tone to silence the two arguing elves.

"This," he interrupted as he signaled towards the she-elf, "is Iareth. She has a particular talent in knife throwing."

"Hi", she simply spoke without ceremony.

Arthon was about to comment once more, but Legolas managed to continue uninterrupted.

"This is Erwath," he gestured towards the dark haired elf, "Our master of long sword fighting."

"Pleasure to meet you." The introduced elf spoke politely.

The blond elf lord then turned to his red haired companion for his last presentation.

"This is Helegon, who has an affinity with twin knives."

Helegon nodded, seeming to wish for this moment to be over as soon as possible.

"Well, it is an honor to meet you all," replied Aragorn, " You are all most welcome in Minas Tirith."

"Well, apparently, it is not an honor to meet _me_ , is it?" Arthon angrily said while staring at Legolas.

"What do you mean, Arthon?" Asked Legolas, trying to understand his companion's sudden indignation.

"You have not introduced me. I never thought I would be so easy to forget." Provokingly stated the furious elf.

"Everyone already knows you, Arthon. You have introduced yourself."

Arthon snorted in choleric disappointment, having expected a tremendous presentation.

"Of course, well I suppose forgetting people is common in this kingdom. After all, I do not even know who these two are!" Arthon accused, gesturing to the pair of humans sitting not too far from Aragorn.

"I am Faramir son of Denethor, my lord" the steward answered, "and this is my wife Eowyn, lady of Rohan."

"They are so beautiful, aren't they?" Valwen stated, "So unfortunate that your son will never see this..."

"Our son is perfectly well, my lady." Faramir corrected, unsure of the princess' statement's meaning.

"Your other son, my lord." Specified Valwen with sincerity.

Eowyn's face then turned dangerously pale as she understood.

A few years ago, her unborn baby had died before having the privilege of living. Yet, she had never told anyone of it, since her pregnancy had been recent and had not reached an important stage of development. To realize the princess had acknowledged the dramatic turn of events and the baby's gender took her aback, even scared her.

Aragorn turned to his daughter with round eyes.

"Valwen!" He intervened with an alarmed tone.

The young woman then realized her mistake and turned to Eowyn with an apologetic look.

"I am _so_ sorry. I did not mean to..."

"It is fine," Forgave Eowyn, trying to recover a calm expression.

"Valwen," Aragorn began with authority, "We talked about this. These are personal matters that do not concern you. Do we have to go through all of this again?"

"No, ada, I am sorry. I thought you knew..."

"We will speak later, Valwen." Aragorn said, his feelings tamed. "So, Legolas, how is Ithilien?"

"Splendid, my king", began Arthon with his usual exaggerated manners, "The woods neighboring the dark lands are now thriving and full of life. The borders are well protected and the city was built with care and strategy. It is be-au-ti-ful, my king. Perhaps, one day, you should come and-"

"It is well, thank you." Interrupted Legolas tired of Arthon's useless babbling.

"You should taste the food, _my lord_ , it is incredibly tasty." Advised Arthon.

Cadworon stared at the meat in the others' plates as all colors left his face.

"Cadworon, are you alright?" Legolas asked, truly worried about his friend who always had a hard time keeping food down since his mother's passing to the hall of Mandos. Helegon, who was the closest friend of the troubled elf, rose and took him by the shoulders, leading him to his room. Legolas gratefully smiled to him while Cadworon had his back turned.

"Is he alright?" Arwen asked, her smooth voice taming all the worries in the room.

"Well," Iareth started. "Let's say he has a strange way of... Not coping."

"Strange indeed." Mocked Arthon.

"Perhaps I could help if you like." Proposed Valwen with her usual enthusiasm.

"Help what? His digestive system? Perhaps we should open him up and find out what ails his digestion." Spoke Arthon to the annoyance of all.

"Actually", corrected the young woman, "I rather thought of helping him on a psychological aspect. I am quite certain we could remedy to his condition."

"I doubt it." Replied Erwarth, just loud enough to be heard.

Centuries it had been since the passing of Cadworon's mother and his condition, even if improved during the first years, had remained unchanged for most of them. It was now considered normal by the team, although it was no less unpleasant to the warrior, especially during stressful times. There would be days when he would be unable to eat a single bite, and none pushed him.

The elite team of Ithilien had developed a common understanding, respecting personal limits linked to war and death. All of their fëa wounded in a certain way, they had learned to comprehend the limits of others and, at a certain point, consider them as simple facts they needed to heed and consider during practical tasks. Cadworon's way with food was one of those characteristics, one of the usual aspects the team had learned to normalize.

To an outsider, though, many of these stories and consequences of old hurts could result with pity in their hearts, pity for shadows of a dark past that still had a hold on them during times of peace. Most of the members would always suffer from psychological or physical traumas they had outbraved before, and even if many may deem it unfortunate, the warriors had learned to consider it as an aspect of personality, as ordinary as any other. They all respected them (except for Arthon, sometimes) and considered each other as strong and valuable despite their weaknesses.

Perhaps this was one of the team's greatest strengths, to work as one, showing the best of each of them and accepting the worst.

Yet another silence followed Erwath's words before Lostatiel adressed Legolas:

"So, can you or can you not shoot a Nazgul?"

"Well, I believe he can," Aragorn said, gazing at Legolas, "As a matter of fact you did once, in the pitch dark on the banks of the Anduin river. We did not clearly see what this dark shape was, but judging by the darkness it's presence brought, it could be nothing else than a black rider."

"You shot down a Nazgul?!" Valwen yelled, impossibly impressed. For Legolas, the word 'Nazgul' seemed like a curse when coming out of the pure princess' mouth.

"I believe I only injured the steed." The blond elf declared, slightly shy from all the unbelieving looks the others gave him. Aragorn was wearing a smile of pride as his grey eyes lightened.

"And from this, you can deduce that his team is formed of the best and most effective warriors since he is the one who trained us." Arthon declared, praising his team, and of course, himself.

The servants came in to clear the table of all the dirty plates and bowls while all the people in the room stood and went their separate ways. Arthon pulled Nildë by the arm towards the doors that led to the city, saying he would offer him the greatest night he had ever lived through. Although Arthon and Nildë's idea of a great night were truly different. While the two left for the most renown inn of the city, Aragorn walked to Legolas, who could see his whole team following Arthon and Nildë not long after their departure.

"Well mellon nin, your team truly is unique." The human declared with a soft smile.

"Indeed." The elf declared, surprising Aragorn with his short answer. The elf did seem really tired.

"Let us go to your room, you need to sleep." He suggested.

Legolas silently followed him, not uttering a word until he was in his chamber, sitting on his comfortable bed next to Estel.

"How did she know?" He asked.

"I'm afraid I do not understand what you mean, Legolas."

"My apologies, I was lost in thought." The elf replied while the human eyed him worriedly.

"Whom are you asking about?"

"Valwen. How did she know about Eowyn's lost son?" he asked, thoughtful.

"Arwen and I are not certain. We believe she might be like her great grand mother. Although why her sight reaches further than thus of Elrond and Arwen herself, we do not know. She has seen something alarming a month ago and this is why I summoned you here."

"Yes, my father told me about the council."

"The Lords from other lands should be arriving soon." Aragorn declared.

Legolas seemed thoughtful for a moment, finally voicing his thoughts after a few moments of silence.

"Aragorn, why was my father already here when I arrived?"

"We have sent him a letter before you, like all other lords that happen to be at a greater distance. We wished to welcome all of you at the same time. Your father, though, was quicker then we thought."

Legolas smiled, recognizing the old habit.

"He does like surprising others with his sophistication and effective manners."

Aragorn laughed softly, knowing Legolas' father only by reputation. Gondor had no business with Eryn Lasgalen, but Aragorn needed the presence of one of the warriors of old in this council, he would need Thranduil's wisdom and experience if what Valwen had seen was true.

He gazed at Legolas, seeing how tired and absent the elf seemed. Aragorn rose and pulled back the covers of the prince's bed.

"Try to get some rest, we will talk more in the morning."

"You do realize I can still take care of myself?" The elf declared laughingly while sliding under the covers.

"And I also realized a few decades ago that you do not." The human declared while leaving the room. The elf was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

They had made it to an inn, all six of them, with Cadworon and Helegon who had chosen to join them after all. The elves were sitting at a wooden table in a corner of the room that was full of people. Many were drunk, yelling and chanting songs that definitely should not have been sung next to blessed immortal beings. Iareth was gazing around, discouragement painted clearly on her fair features.

"You do realize that none of their gin and ale can actually affect us." She declared towards Arthon, clearly insulting him for his stupidity.

"Of course! And this is why, dear Iareth, I brought this beautiful bag with me." He answered while taking out a bottle of Dorwinion under the shocked stares of all his comrades.

"Well, we certainly will not gain pleasure from one wine bottle when we are six sharing it." Erwath declared, his green eyes gazing at his empty glass.

"Ha, Erwath do you take me for some fool?" He asked, showing the team the full content of his bag.

"Are you certain we can drink some wine that is not from the inn?" Nildë asked softly.

"I suppose we will find out." Arthon declared, winking.

"I plead the horse that had to carry this all the way from Ithilien." Iareth declared, Helegon nodded in agreement.

"This, my friends, will be a night to remember."

* * *

 _All he could do was watch his days end after his one deadly mistake. There was no time to be forgiven, no time to redeem himself from his misjudgement. The dark form facing him gave no warning, except for a dark smile, terrible and cruel. Its blade pierced through flesh and spirit, strong and dark, before lifting the body high in the air, blond hair flying in the wind, slender limbs showing no resistance. It then tossed it to the ground with force, the noise sending shivers up the spines of all that heard. The shadow grew behind the evil being, slowly claiming the light of the fading form that lay upon the earth…_

She woke up with a scream, sitting upright with her pale nightgown sticking to her slender body with sweat. The young woman tried to take control over her breathing, putting her head in her hands and seeing the images unfold in a loop behind her eyelids. Tears of fear and confusion were sliding down her cheeks without her noticing until she tasted salted water on her chapped lips.

 _Salted water, as the pure fluid of Belegaer filling his being with envy. Waves of hope and freedom, of eternity and redemption. How he wished to be amongst them..._

These thoughts were not hers, she realized, but thus of the elf who had been executed in front of her very eyes.

The woman had made a connection with the prince in her sleep, perhaps in fear and worry. Despite the fact that her consciousness had reached his, she could not shake off the concern that enveloped her whole being. She decidedly rose from her bed, not even bothering to change before walking down the stone-made corridors to the warrior's room. She hesitated in front of the door before knocking and hearing no response. The princess turned the knob, trying to be as silent as possible when she opened the entry and slipped inside the dim lit room. She directed her gaze to the spacious bed that stood at the far right corner of the room, next to the many windows and the door that led to the balcony. Only the light of the moon lit the room and the sight that greeted her seemed surreal. As the half-elven walked to the bed, she noticed the prince's head on the pillows, his face seemingly peaceful with his thoughts calmed by slumber and his loose blond hair spread around his head, shining under the moonlight. The forest green covers were drawn up to his waist, his white tunic ornamented by carefully sewn decorations covering the upper half of his body. The elf was sleeping on his back, his fair face turned to the side, one arm draped over his middle and the other deposed on the other pillow next to his head.

The princess suddenly felt like she was out of place, as if watching Legolas when he was not on guard or unable to defend himself was a sin or a privilege to those whom he trusted most. Everything felt hypnagogic, from the moonlight shining on the ethereal sight of the prince sleeping to her misplaced presence in the room. The woman turned around, heading for the door when she decided against waking him until she heard the sound of shifting from the bed.

"Valwen?" She heard a tired and slightly raspy voice say.

The half-elf turned and directed her stare to the bed, seeing the prince raising himself on one elbow. And as soon as her gaze met his, she could not help but to see him die all over again and she gasped, putting a hand on her still wetted chest.

"My lady, is everything all right?" Legolas asked as he slowly rose and walked to her, his body facing hers as he looked down in order to see her smooth face that was contorted with anguish.

"Perhaps you should sit down." The blond elf advised. The troubled woman nodded and sat on one of the chairs next to the fireplace. She slowly regained her composure before realizing that Legolas had just woken in the middle of the night to the sight of a lady he had barely known standing in the middle of his room, wearing nothing but a nightgown and nearly crying in fear and grief from an event he did not even know she thought of.

Surely he would have some questions.

Although, the look he had when gazing at her seemed as troubled as hers, and not only because she was out of place. There was something in his eyes, something like what she had seen when she had first met him in Gondor's most beautiful garden.

She realized they had been staring at each other for a very long time when she finally managed to utter a word.

"Hem... Hi." She awkwardly said, a ridiculous laugh escaping her pink lips. It was strange to see him alive and well (aside from his apparent exhaustion and wandering mind) after she had seen him die in such a cruel way.

"Good evening, or should I say night." He replied in a suspicious way.

"Right, it is night, hem... How are you doing?" She asked, awkwardly smiling.

"I am well thank you." He answered, his eyes still slightly foggy from sleep, "Although you seem extremely fairly my lady, is there any reason you came here?" The Lord asked, genuinely worried about his best friend's daughter. He could see she had sweated through her dress and the way she constantly stared at him as if he would disappear any second. The princess also seemed slightly disheveled, which was without doubt a sign that her sleep had been troubled. Perhaps it had something to do with what Aragorn had told him.

"Actually...I wanted to know if you were alright my lord..."

He stared unbelievingly at her, not understanding why she would be worrying about his well being at such an hour in the night.

"Formalities are not in order with me, my lady, you can simply call me Lego-"

"Then you can simply call me Valwen." She answered, smiling as if in relief. He smiled back, his magnificent eyes lightening.

"Alright, Valwen." He said, the name beautifully rolling on his tongue. "May I ask what is the cause of your worry?"

Despite the fact that Valwen had no filter, she knew that telling someone about their imminent death was utterly out of place. Her wisdom showed her that she had to keep some things she saw to herself and so she had only one answer possible to avoid the topic without raising suspicions...

"The sea longing... I was wondering if it was going for the worse or the better."

Legolas realized that hearing these two forsaken words from her mouth made them all the worst. He still remembered the garden, how she had for some reason reminded him for Belegaer and her- _it's_ unending waltz. There was something about her, something he could not pinpoint...

"I'm afraid it is not getting better. Although there really is no reason for you to worry, I can perfectly handle it..."

"You don't seem surprised..."

"That a woman was staring at me in my sleep after infiltrating my room?" He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow.

"No! That I knew about the sea longing without asking you." She answered. "No that it is _that_ obvious, of course!"

He laughed at how alarmed she seemed at possibly accusing him of not hiding things well enough. Perhaps she really knew him better than he thought.

"I spoke with your father. He told me your sight could be compared to thus of Lady Galadriel."

"He's exaggerating." She said, as if she was trying to convince herself. They stayed silent for some time, each lost in thought.

"Well," Valwen broke the silence, "I never thought I would be sitting and talking with the legendary Legolas Greenleaf in a nightgown one day."

They both laughed thinking about how strange it sounded. A few hours ago, Valwen's presence would only have brought him melancholy, like it had in the garden.

"Legendary... I believe you are exaggerating too."

"Well, I don't." She suddenly seemed to realize something as she rose from her seat. "Oh Valar it's late! You need to rest. Hem right, goodnight!" And just like this she ran to the door and left with her child-like grace, her odor being the only proof that she had been present moments earlier.

"Goodnight?"

* * *

"Hi, I'm Arthon." The drunk elf declared, winking at a random man making his way through the croud.

The man stared, apparently disgusted.

"And I am taken." He replied.

"Well, hi, Taken" Replied the elf, "How are you on this fine night?"

"Not interested." Replied the young, reticent man before continuing his trajectory to his table.

Arthon turned around with a disappointed expression as the rest of the team laughed at the comment of the bad charmer's victim.

"That's not funny." He simply said which made the others laugh even harder.

"Oh, apologies, grumpy." Laughed Iareth, "You need serious education on your love suggesting techniques. For example, try looking at the person's eyes instead of their lips, it looks a lot more sincere. Here, practice on Nildë."

At this moment, Nildë froze in his chair as his face reddened, a habit he had during uncomfortable moments. Arthon's eyes met his as he tried to look anywhere but into his friend's orbs, unable to endure his stable stare with his nervous look.

"Now," continued Iareth, "You need to have less variation of tones when you speak, Arthon, because it makes you sound like a debauchee."

"Hi," Arthon attempted with too much seriousness to Nildë's opinion, "I am Arthon."

"I... I know", replied the shy elf, unsure if he should have come to the inn at all.

"You're not supposed to answer, Nildë, it's a practice." Explained Iareth, "Now, speaking with complicated words is always giving you a mysterious look and an advantage in making conversation. Give it a try."

"Well, on this fine night, I happen to discover beauty itself! May I know what magnificent name I must utter in your incomparably splendid presence?" Tried Arthon, taking Nildë aback once more.

"Perhaps you... You could practice on... on Erwath." Suggested the embarrassed false lover.

"Oh, no, lovely flower. _You_ have caught my eye." Said the training elf without breaking character.

The addressed elf seemed to shrink in his chair. If he could have fled, he would no doubt have done it.

"Well, that is already better than before." Commented Iareth, satisfied.

Although, Arthon kept his stare upon the clear eyes of his victim, unmoving.

"I... I think you... Your lesson is over." Murmured Nildë, unable to speak louder.

The elf raised his gaze to meet his, and they both stared for a few moments before Arthon winked and looked away. It was now the other elf's turn to stare, uncertain of what he had seen in his friend's eyes. It probably was the Dorwinion wine making its effect.

"Now," Iareth began, directing Arthon, "You can try it on an actual living bei-"

A drunk woman then landed on the elf Iareth was coaching, meeting his lips aggressively as the chair fell backwards. She kept kissing him after they landed on top of each other, Arthon deciding not to force her off. She then slowly got up, stumbling, swaying and laughing in loud screechy sounds as she went away, leaving a scent of alcohol behind.

"Apparently," Arthon noted as he managed to his feet, "Your tricks even work in the distance, Iareth." Arthon chuckled, still surprised.

The whole team was stunned by the events, not expecting a drunk, human and flirting woman to appear out of no where like this.

"Well, am I not a romantic?" Arthon laughed.

* * *

"Laddy!" Was the only warning Aragorn had before a weight was slamming on him, encircling his arms around his body.

"Well good morning to you Gimli." Aragorn said as he laughed. He was just coming out of his bedroom after a good night's sleep when Gimli had arrived.

"It's really good to see you again Lad! How long has it been? Judging by your hair, I would say quite a few years!" He joked, his loud gruff laugh resonating through the corridor.

"It is really good to see you too, my friend. How have you been?" Aragorn replied, laughing at his friend's untamable humor.

"Oh I've been well, I've been well. The Glittering Caves are flourishing and so is my people!" The dwarf replied joyfully. "And what about you lad?"

"I am well thank you, and so is Gondor."

"Excellent, excellent. Any children yet? Did you follow the advice I gave you?"

"Three. A boy and two girls... Well, a man and two women I should say." He smiled to himself.

"Wonderful lad! I cannot wait to meet these spawns of yours!" Declared the dwarf in his gruff voice.

Aragorn laughed at his friend's choice of words.

"So, where is that pointy eared elvish princeling eh?"

"Legolas? I believe he is still in his room."

"At this hour! The lad barely sleeps what would he be do-" The dwarf stopped himself in mid-sentence, suddenly seeming thoughtful. "Should we expect elflings anytime soon?" The dwarf asked, looking serious.

Aragorn burst out laughing for good this time, steadying himself by putting his hand on the wall.

"No Gimli, we should not." He wiped the tears out of his eyes.

He would not tell Gimli about the sea longing by respect for Legolas. If the elf wanted the dwarf to know, he would tell him himself. Although, the dwarf did deserve to know the truth.

"Actually, I believe he is sleeping Gimli. He has been really tired lately. As a healer and a friend, I would appreciate that he sleeps through the whole day."

The king of the glittering caves stared at him, completely stunned.

"Well that is worrisome. What's the matter with him?"

"I believe he should be the one to tell you, my friend."

Gimli nodded in understanding, knowing his elven friend quite well.

"Is Thorin with you?" The former ranger asked.

"Ah, yes, he is. I believe he was shown to his rooms. He wanted to rest, you see."

"Of course. We must all be rested for the upcoming council."

"It did seem really important in your letter, lad."

"It truly is, Gimli."

* * *

It had been years since the three hunters had last been together. Years since the three warriors united by war had seen each other in times of peace. Peace they had fought so hard for. And so, sitting calmly in Aragorn's office, drinking tea was quite abnormal for them.

"In conclusion lads, I clearly was faster than you both." The dwarf declared, clearly full of himself. He took a sip of his tea, spilling some of it on his whitening beard.

Legolas chuckled to himself while Aragorn's eyes went wide.

"Gimli, you must be joking!" Aragorn exclaimed,"You were yards behind! We had to wait for you half of the time! Your memory has clearly betrayed you."

"No", Gimli argued, "I remember picking up Pippin's brooch and turning around to tell you 'not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall'. Then Legolas arrived, puffing."

"That is it. You are kidding." Aragorn said, giving up on the argument.

"I believe it was Aragorn who picked up the brooch, Gimli. And it was you who arrived, trying to catch your breath."

"That is right Legolas," Aragorn confirmed, "but I must say that you surprised me, Gimli. Your speed was quite extraordinary, considering the length of you legs."

"The length of my-" The dwarf puffed with frustration, "You should know that my legs are of a fine size, truly desired by all women of-"

At this exact moment, two dark haired figures entered the room in a mad run, before emptying buckets full of cold water on the three conversing friends before bursting into loud laughter.

"What is this?!" Gimli yelled in fury.

Aragorn raised his gaze from his drenched clothes to see two familiar faces he had long missed.

"Elladan? Elrohir?"

"That is right, old baby brother. Your aged eyes have not failed you."

Aragorn, ignoring the silly comment, strode forward and caught both of them in a tight embrace, rejoicing to their presence. The two tried at first to avoid getting wet themselves, but gave up on the idea and let their feelings take over their actions.

"It has been too long." Aragorn said, pulling back.

Elrohir took a silver strand of his foster brother's hair between his thumb and index before confirming the man's statement.

"Indeed it has." He said, realizing how years had changed the king.

He then turned to see Legolas standing behind him, watching with a sincere smile on his face.

"Legolas!" He exclaimed and then stopped on his way to his arms, "Well, _you_ have changed. Still, we missed you."

He hugged him tightly as Elladan joined, all of them enjoying a moment of content...

...And concern.

The twins felt something had changed in Legolas. It was impossible to tell what, which made their feeling of awareness grow with fear. They would ask him later, it had been quite a long time since their previous time together. The moment they were living was precious, and they would not waste a second of it.

"Well, Gimli, _you_ have clearly changed."

The dwarf did not answer, uncertain of if he should take it as a compliment.

"Where is Arwen?", Elladan asked, eager to see his sister once more.

"And those children of yours?", completed Elrohir.

Aragorn headed towards the door, followed by the two elves and dwarf. Legolas knew what the twins had thought when seeing him. Questions would be asked.

He finally went to join the group, hoping they were not too concerned.

* * *

"Uncle Dan! Uncle Ro!"Greeted Valwen, throwing herself in their arms.

"Who are you?!" Asked Elladan, not recognizing the woman he had only known as a young girl.

"It's me, Valwen!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

"You were just a little girl when we came before, how is that possible?!" Elrohir asked, unbelievably surprised. "Well, you are beautiful, truly."

"And look at you! You must me Lostariel! Oh, how you've grown so much, my little Lostiti girl." He sais affectionately as he grabbed her cheeks in his hands.

The woman he held softly moved his hands away, correcting the elf lord.

"I am the servant, my lord. Lady Lostariel is by lady Arwen's side."

"Oh, hem, right." The elf turned towards the woman he was looking for before running to her with his twin brother.

They both held her tightly as she returned the courtesy greeting them.

"How you have grown, you pretty thing!"

"Glad to see you too." Lostariel replied sincerely.

"And you," Elladan turned towards Arwen, "how are you muinthel nin?"

"I am fine, thank you. How do _you_ do?" The queen asked.

"Splendid." They replied simultaneously.

"Where is Eldarion?" Elrohir asked, curious.

"He is on the guard's watch." Answered Aragorn from behind them.

The twin elves then both turned to each other, a mischievous look on their face.

"Please, do not bother him." Aragorn pleaded.

"We will be back in a minute." Said Elladan, already preparing pranks in his head.

The two elf lords walked away, plotting evil gags for the prince of Gondor.

"I hope they will go easy on him." Aragorn voiced his hopes to Legolas.

"So do I." The elf replied.

"I remember when I was sixteen," Aragorn recalled, "I was on my first patrol with their group. The things they had done... I cannot believe I actually survived it. My pride did not, though."

Legolas chuckled at his friends words, remembering a few stories of his own.

A short silence followed and came to an end as the man spoke.

"Well, everyone is settled. We will be ready for the council now."

A cloud of foreboding and wariness seemed to cross the man's mind as he looked in the mist of his thoughts.

"Or so I hope."

* * *

Elvish=

Muinthel nin: My sister

fëa: Soul


	6. Strangers From Distant Lands

**Author's note: Hi everyone! Sorry for the long delay but this chapter is huge and was really long to write... We hope you will enjoy it! Love you all.**

 _"Fear of something is at the root of hate for others, and hate within will eventually destroy the hater._ "

George Washington Carver

* * *

"Welcome, allies of Gondor. You have been summoned here today for a pressing matter has come to our acknowledgement. A matter that may endanger Middle-Earth itself." Aragorn cast a circular look around the long table where kings lords, squires of everywhere in Middle-Earth sat, listening, "A month ago, Valwen, princess of Gondor, had a vision featuring the void, empty. We are now here to clarify this image, to understand what danger may lay ahead. Now, if you have any information concerning strange events, rumors or any other type of news, I welcome you to share it now. We are attempting to muster all information we can access concerning the one that escaped from his prison, the emptiness."

Upon finishing his opening speech, the king of Gondor sat slowly, observing the reactions his statement caused on the members of the council.

"'The one that escaped from his prison, the 'emptiness', who would that be? And how is it that you imprison someone in nothing? Is this another of those strange, impossible elven stories? I will not have my beliefs falsified by some pointy eared child's tale. What is the truth in this? Is there no possibility to clarify? If not, we are ill started." Thorin III Stonehelm, king under the mountain and lord of the Ironhills, stated, with an indignant tone.

"Ill started indeed.", commented Thranduil provokingly, "Have you no knowledge of your own history?" He questioned, full of hate, "You do realize you know nothing of what came before you? We are speaking of a much greater threat than what you have found when you dug too deep in the confines of Moria, dwarf. Perhaps you could do with slight knowledge of what might destroy your people, at the least." He spoke with disgust.

"Which is why we will inform you on the subject." King Elessar informed, unliking the dwarf and elf king's manners. "It is said in history that, during the first age, the peoples of Beleriand waged war many a time against a common enemy. Some names of those battles, you may recall: Dagor Bragollach, battle of the sudden flame, or perhaps the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, battle of Unnumbered Tears. This enemy, in a final war of alliance with elves, men, and the strength of the Valar, was chained by the creators and thrust through the Door of Night beyond the Walls of the World, into the timeless void. He is known under many names. Bauglir, Belegurth, the Enemy, perhaps he is even known under another name by his brothers that thus treated him, but the one that haunted our ancestors and travelled strongest through history was that of Morgoth. A Valar of strong and dark might, shadow of an other time."

The reaction in the council room was sudden and fierce. Loud gasps were heard from those who knew more of the Dark Lord of old, and expressions of terror showed nonetheless on those who only knew his name with fear and hatred.

The world had changed with time. The presence of the Valar under the eyes of a living being had not been heard of during the last ages. To learn that such a strength as thus of the first named Melkor could come anew meant knowing that doom was at hand: the power of the Eldar was not as strong and pure as aforetime and the lack of presence of the Ainur during the War of the Ring made many believe that this war would be no different. Never could their forces match the power held in the time of Beleriand, neither could it match thus of the first Dark Lord the world had ever known.

A long silence of dread and prayer followed as all wished they had heard wrong. It was then Éomer, king of Rohan that broke the quite heaviness that lay upon every present member of the council by voicing the interrogations most had in mind.

"Can we be certain that the image princess Valwen witnessed truly symbolized what we have come to deduce? How can we be certain of the truth in this message?"

"True enough," Agreed the King Under the Mountain, disbelieving the alarming news, "Your daughter probably had a simple nightmare, my king Elessar. We should not be so alarmed by such uncertainty coming from a girl."

"That girl is a fully grown woman, king Thorin", Aragorn replied, growing short on patience for the dwarf, "And it is in her capacity to differentiate simple dreams from sights beyond what the eye can reach. It is also my belief that there is no mistaking the terror of the Dark Lord for a usual factor of slumber."

"There is no way we can wage war on an enemy we are not even sure exists!" Exclaimed the dwarf, "Basing the return of Morgoth on a girl's dream! This is nonsense!"

"You are speaking of a descendant of Galadriel, perhaps you should do so with more respect," Threatened Aragorn, letting some of his anger fill his words, "And there are other factors that may prove princess Valwen right. We have realized, Lord Beriadan and I, that our letters have been intercepted for the last decades." The king cast a subtle, regretful look at his friend, still affected by all the missed years they could never retake.

"The same has happened with Eryn Lasgalen," added Thranduil, " _No answer_ " he spoke while looking at Legolas accusingly, "came from Ithilien."

The blamed elf lowered his gaze, unliking his past king's reaction to a occurrence he had no responsibility in. Still, the thought that he should have returned to his homeland crossed his mind, and he took what fury his father had as his fault.

"There also is the fact that Rhûn has retired from all trades with us." Added the named Stonehelm.

"That," corrected king Thranduil, "Would actually make perfect sense, considering your incapability to hold your end of a bargain. And why was it so important for you to keep this necklace of ours? I have never seen a dwarf with a neck in thousands of years."

"Then why wear a crown if you do not have a head, elf?!" The dwarf retorted, reaching for his axe while standing.

"My lords, please." Aragorn cut with authority in his voice.

The king of Gondor could be soft, fair and light-hearted, but it came to happen that he stood, taller than most, hard and menacing, if need be.

The dwarf finally sat, mumbling in his native tongue as the elven king stared at him, his piercing, hard glare burning with fury.

"We have a common enemy, now. Please, put your conflicts aside. We will need to cooperate, all of us" Said Aragorn, "And Rhûn has ceased trading with all territories. It is a strange thing indeed."

"If I may," Calmly began Elladan, "we have strange information that was sent to us not long after our departure. The Ents have set watch upon the blessed woods of Lothlórien and, during our journey to Gondor, we have met with one of them. He told us the Mallorn seemed unwell, their bark not glistening in the sun as before and their leaves turning to a reddish color. Life around the Bruinen and Celebrand rivers seems to fade and they do not understand the cause of it."

"Interesting phenomenon," commented Thranduil, "There also was one in Eryn Lasgalen only but two month's ago. What was left of the spiders hiding in Dol Guldur moved north, past our territory and into the mountains. We have not identified the cause of their strange behavior yet."

"This is rather troubling", began Gimli, "Fortunately, nothing is wrong with the Glittering caves."

"Except for the fact that they are the glittering caves." Murmured Thranduil.

"I heard that!" The dwarf angrily informed.

"And it would delight me to let you hear it again." Stated Thranduil

"Please, stop this. There clearly is no need for that." Legolas whispered to him, tired of his pointless comments.

Aragorn then turned to the king of Rohan, "My king Éomer, is there anything you would like to report?"

"Nothing seems unusual in the home of the horse lords, my king."

"What about the men of Dale, my king Thranduil? How are they?"

The king then turned towards the dwarf facing him, Stonehelm, who stared back, traces of anger still on his face.

"Trade worthy." The elf said, all too provokingly.

"Alright! That is IT!"

The dwarf jumped off his seat, his face red in fury.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK LIKE THIS OF MY PEOPLE, YOU WITLESS FAIRY!"

The elven king stood, matching his intensity. Although, his complexion was still of pure paleness.

"There is a candle holder on this table, dwarf. Do not make me use it." He replied menacingly.

Protestations began to grow in the room as other conflicts began at a smaller intensity. Aragorn attempted to stop the arguments, in vain. He sat, desperate, waiting for it to end as Legolas did.

"SUCH A BEAUTIFUL KING WITH ROBES AND LONG PERFECT HAIR! TELL ME, ARE YOU A REPLACEMENT FOR THE QUEEN?!" He yelled, his 'r's rolling in his mouth.

Aragorn had heard of Thranduil's experience with the Serpents of the North. He was told of how the fires had ravaged his once perfect marble skin. Legolas had told him once that the scars would show when the king lost his temper to anger.

But nothing would have prepared him for this sight.

From a healer's point of view, Aragorn could not fathom how a living being could survive such wounds. He was actually disgusted for one of the only times in his life and he realized only Elrond could have been able to treat this.

And surely not easily.

At first, a strange, uneven, pink and dead like skin showed in the middle of his cheek, before spreading wider and wider, to let him realize only a few threads were left of a once perfect and unified jowl.

But that was not the end of it.

The horrible scars climbed up his face and reached his eye, turning it to an empty, white mass as it spread further and further. Aragorn wondered if the propagating of the horror would ever stop.

At first, an expression of hurt contorted the elven king's damaged features, but then an evident wrath burned through his face like the fire of dragons had thousands of years ago, and he stood leaning over the table and staring at the dwarf from over his head.

"Even the names of the Valar would sound like a curse in your filthy, spitting hole you call mouth, you mindless, soulless wretch! I will not have you utter these words again or you will see your tongue on a plate! You are just like your race. Greedy, worthless, dishonorable scums! We have a common enemy, they say, when every breath you take is pollution to the air, every step rots the grass under your feet, every look robs all the beauty of whatever meets your eyes! Do not speak of things you do not know, dwarf. Now if you ever address me with that disgusting grunting noise you make when you speak ever again, I will have your head on a stick upon the borders of my lands for the crows to feast on!"

Despite his renown exaggerated pride, his fearless attitude during any situation of imminent danger, his strong temper in all aspects of his personality, king Thorin III Stonehelm sat down, shrinking under the stature of king Thranduil's fury. The elf's deep, loud, threatening voice froze the whole room, and as the king finished, no one dared a noticeable reaction. The elven king kept his gaze locked on the dwarf facing him, daring him to speak but one word.

His face, or rather what was left of it, seemed to be burning once again with the fires of the creatures of old, and all who set eyes upon it would be henceforth haunted by the horrible image.

The king let no one speak of his queen since her passing, not even himself. Once only, he had spoken of her to Legolas, telling him he was the thing she loved most.

More than anyone. More than life.

To hear one of the races he hated beyond all speak of her woke murderous thoughts inside of him. The dwarf, unfortunately for his life, had not understood.

"It really does take time for elves to get over something. Perhaps you should try...GETTING OVER IT!"

Thranduil eyed the candleholder laying on the table, wondering at what damage he could cause by hitting the dwarf's skull with it.

Legolas rose, fury animating his cold blue eyes. He would not let such a greedy being insult his mother, had he done it willingly or not.

"And who do you think you are to tell us to move on? You, who were willing to kill thousands in order to reclaim a mountain of jewels and gold," He declared, his fury slightly more contained then his father's for the sake of Aragorn. Although, the sea longing had seemed to make his patience grow thin as he realized that the being sitting close to him had just insulted the two people that had been his family.

"Wise and powerful you think you are, insulting people you did not know, even when they are not among us anymore to defend themselves. You insult people who have witnessed more war and death than you will ever see. You insult people whose life has been put at sake to secure yours before you were ever born. You insult a woman who lost her life fighting so that people like you, people in whom she held hope despite every other elf's disgust, could live. And yet, she was worth more than anything you'll ever be." He finished, his hands flat on the table and his gaze piercing through the dwarf's tiny eyes. The room stood silent for a moment, Nildë staring at his hands by the place he occupied next to his Lord. Aragorn stayed silent, knowing that there was nothing to be done to stop the king and prince now that the deceased queen had been mentioned and insulted by the mouth of a dwarf. Thranduil seemed beyond fury, his mutilated chest heaving with every short breath he took. The scars were far from disappearing with the uncontrolled anger still coursing through the elf king's body. He turned his head towards his son, a look of utter revulsion plastered on his maimed face.

"Who gave you the right to defend her?!" He yelled, startling everyone in the room.

"My king-" Legolas started in vain.

"It was your fault!" Madness seemed to appear in the king's uninjured eye as he turned towards his son. Legolas seemed to grow shorter as Thranduil inched his tall form over him, looking as if he would strike his own son at any time.

Legolas could not answer, for he had always thought his father was right.

Aragorn stared at the woodland king in utter disbelief over such accusation. He had never known what had happened to Legolas' mother, but he had always known that the young elf blamed himself for it. He was about to rise and restrain the king himself when he began to hear shouting from where the dwarves were seated.

"You know perfectly well you should never have mentioned her!" Gimli yelled at Thorin, defending his elven friend.

"Oh and now you're siding with _them_?!" The heir of Daín answered, his booming voice resonating everywhere as he rose menacingly, his two counsellors doing the same.

"Siding? Are we not allies, Master Dwarf?" Elladan declared while standing, supporting Gimli. Elrohir followed soon after, always seconding his brother's opinion.

"And who said this was the concern of you feminine sprites?" One of Thorin's counsellors yelled at the twins.

"Feminine would only be an insult for you, who treat your bearded women like they are nothing!" Elladan yelled back.

Aragorn stared around him, seeing more and more people join the conflict and hearing the shouting getting louder and louder until it was barely bearable. He could not believe what he was seeing from the king still yelling at his son that he was a disgrace to Éomer who had stood to put an end to the conflicts but had ended up in one as Gimli's advisor judged the name he had chosen for his son, Elfwine. All people were throwing insults and justifications at each other, their volume ever augmenting as they wanted to be heard over the others. The king of Gondor let himself fall on his chair, his head leaning on his hands. There was nothing to be done, for the chaos had started and he could not order everyone to cease. He was only the king of men and nothing could be done about the dwarves and elves, who seemed to be the center of the conflict.

Aragorn met Legolas gaze, seeing that the furious king had let go the front of his son's tunic to ferociously argue with the dwarf standing in front of him. The young elf was not part of any conflict anymore, but he could see the two members of his team, Nildë and Erwath, start to have a rather heated discussion with one of Thorin's counsellor who seemed to have insulted the lord of Ithilien.

"You were so unwanted by the Creator himself that he commanded the Valar who created you to send you back to sleep!" Yelled Elrohir at Thorin.

"Wait a second lad," Gimli declared," this is my whole kind you are insulting!"

"Well at least we do not die weeping when a tree gets cut!" Yelled another dwarf.

"And we did not cause the downfall of the whole Teleri over three shining stones!" Thorin's counsellor joined.

"These stones were the Silmarils, you uncultured child!" furiously replied Elrohir at this attack towards his ancestors, "And you have caused deaths over far less! You have been ignorant enough to dig so low in the ground for your own purposes that you came face to face with a Balrog! That killed Gandalf the grey!"

"A Balrog that what race fell to defeat, remind me?!"

"And whom woke Smaug the defiler, remind me?" Elladan retorted. "A dragon that caused the death of women and children and for what purpose? Wealth. But it is always for wealth is it not?"

The dwarves grunted, looking as if they were about to slice the fair beings' heads off.

"And our race," Éomer exclaimed, "Has attempted to work with the both of you for ages! And look where that has gotten us!"

"Oh, will you shut it, you mortal wretch! This concerns you no more than it has in the last thousands of years!" Thranduil argued

"Father," Elfwine tried to advise, "Perhaps we should remain silent."

"I will not stay silent while they insult my people, son! I will not see my race insulted without giving resistance!"

"You left!" Yelled Thorin, blaming the elven king, "You had come to honor your word, at the lonely mountain, to help those who needed defense and left! You came upon your 'magnificent' elk, 'tall and proud', and turned away!"

"Would you like to know why?" Asked Thranduil, "I came to realize that you had betrayed me first. I thought of how I despised you and came to know a new thing about cruelty. Do you know what is worse than despair, dwarf? False hope!"

"We would NOT have betrayed you, had you made your part of the bargain!" Yelled the dwarf in return.

"Is that what they have told you? Such is the nature of dwarves, to modify the truth for their own profit. And only profit they think of as they dig ever further into the ground. How impressive with their stone halls, thrones too big for themselves and shiny jewels. But then, as I recall, those gems you have _stolen_! 'Dúrin woke and walked alone' they say. But he was not alone, was he?! My people, Nauglir, were there long before yours! When your ancestor woke and stumbled, unclothed and confused, we were there to look upon his vulnerability and laugh at his evident ignorance, and thus we still do today! _We_ are the first children of Llúvatar. You are but the sketch of one of his foolish children! Do not come to tell me about flaws and disgraces of my kind before you recognize your infinite ones, dwarf!"

"How dare you insult a race so freely?!" Éomer asked louder than the rageous protesting dwarves.

"And men!" Thranduil named with discouragement, "Shall I start on men? And if I do, will I finish?! Like I said, this does not concern you! We have made the mistake of trusting you way too many times, human! It all started when you could not manage to throw this golden ring in a volcano for the sake of all! Oh, but no, it began way before that. When your people infested our lands, some for simple owning and others for pity. And how did you answer to our tolerance, by having half of your race allied with the Dark Lord! But again, which one? Oh, of course, _both of them_! We, at least, have the ability of learning from our mistakes! Both of your races came second, and both only know envy and death! Your desire for power is pointless and nearly cost you your people! Those things you built, those cities, those gems, those families, are nothing compared to what the Eldar are capable of! Your tall stone cities are but a hint of the beauty Túna showed in Valinor, you gems will never be as perfect and desired as the Silmarils, wanted by the Dark Lord himself! Your families never last more than a few centuries, your 'love stories' as you call them, have no meaning beside the history of Galadriel and Celeborn, of Thingol and Melian, or of any childish stories of our people! Do not come to us with a broken heart, saying you have done your best, for you will never know what a broken heart is and never will you be willing to do your best if it is to affect your selfish selves. Even after this history of failed attempts to righteous existence you STILL KNOW NOTHING!" At the kings last words, shouts from everywhere around the table started, everyone blaming the others for acts that had happened lifetimes ago. Even Eldarion rose, judging that the woodland king's words were an insult to the love his father held for his mother, Arwen.

Aragorn stared around him yet again, his ears ringing with all the loud noise around him. Some were throwing their cups on the ground in fury while others used the most injuring words to insult the opposing race. Thorin Stonehelm was about to jump over the table in anger.

"That is it! On the name of Thrain the first I declare war on your accursed forest that serves you as a kingdom!" He yelled.

"We will be waiting for you to find your way!" The king hissed menacingly.

"STOP IT!" A female voice yelled.

All stopped talking as princess Valwen controlled her breathing that was harsh and short from anger. Her smooth cheeks red from long contained anger and discouragement. She gazed upon each and every one of them, her eyes seeming to pierce their very soul as she indefinitely silenced every living being in the room. The scars placating Thranduil's body seemed to fade as he regained sight in his mutilated eye.

Besides his mother, Legolas had never seen a woman capable of silencing his father before.

"Just look at yourselves!" She started, "bickering and fighting like children when you should be worried about the most dangerous being Middle Earth has ever seen coming back to bring destruction upon this world! Have you not learnt from your mistakes, learnt from the mistakes of your ancestors and their ancestors before?! You cannot spend time fighting while a common enemy of yours is planning to destroy each and every one of you! Do you think He will care that you are small or tall, fair or ugly, smart or an utter idiot! And do not tell me you cannot trust a girl's dream for I know what I saw. I felt His anger and most important of all, I felt your fear and how some of you try to hide it behind arrogance or humor. I saw more than you can ever imagine... I know which one of you will live, which one of you will despair and which one of you will fall! So by the Valar' sake stop fighting and start trying to change this future I saw, for no doom is certain if we fight for our freedom!" As she finished, only her ragged breathing was heard in the room, every being silenced by the wisdom in her words.

Yet, she was younger then all the men, dwarves and elves in this room.

Most Eldars were completely stunned by her words and the meaning behind them. Thranduil had managed to hide his astonishment behind a mask of dislike for the young woman while Legolas stared at her like if she was some messenger from the Valar themselves. Aragorn could not help but to be proud of her and the way she had silenced some of the most hard headed kings in Middle Earth.

"Now, as you all know, there is to be a feast tonight and I expect you will all be there, trying to understand the warriors with whom you might fight a war." She ended with a determined voice and face. She sat back down, crossing her legs and waited for her father to speak.

"I believe nothing can be settled on this day. You are all free to go." He declared.

Thranduil was the first one to leave, storming out of the room with his robes floating behind him. He was soon followed by all the others, aside from the tree hunters, who kept their seat, staring at nothing in particular.

"I owe you an apology Estel..." Legolas declared after a moment. The only act of shouting seemed to have tired the elf, who was slowly recuperating from the sea longing that had occupied his mind during the last thirty years.

"It is done Legolas. There is nothing more to be said about it. He insulted your mother, I can understand your anger." He said, looking at the elf. "But let us not dwell on it, we have more important matters to discuss."

"You're right lad." Gimli declared in his rough voice, "If He truly has escaped the void, then we have to find a way to destroy him."

"And Valwen does not know where he is?" Legolas asked, his gaze on Aragorn.

There was something about Legolas saying his daugther's name that made him smile. Perhaps he rejoiced on the fact that his best friend had finally met his children the king had so desired him to encounter.

"From what she told me, she has not. But as you probably know, there are some things she cannot share with us." The named Elessar replied.

"But that would be a waste of knowledge! We need this information!" Gimli exclaimed.

" _That_ , could save someone's life my friend." Legolas replied with a soft smile.

"Did she get this, hem... strong sight from the beautiful lady Galadriel?"

"We believe she did, Gimli." Declared Aragorn.

"Then I will have to speak with the fair lady more often!" The dwarf declared before laughing hard.

The human soon joined him and Legolas forced a laugh. Forced? There was no reason for him to be unhappy about Gimli speaking with Aragorn's daughter...

"Legolas?" He heard the woman's father say, "Are you alright?"

"Of course, I was simply lost in thought. Perhaps I should rest before the feast." He stated before exiting the room, leaving his two friends completely bewildered by his strange behavior.

* * *

Legolas was sitting at his desk, filling papers when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." The elf declared, interrupting his reading. He was not surprised to see Aragorn opening the door and entering the room, a small crease of worry etched on his brow.

"Good evening." The human said. "Legolas, are you alright? You seemed tired during the council... You do not usually get stricken by anger so easily. I must admit Gimli and I were worried when you left so suddenly." Although, Aragorn had waited before coming to speak to his friend. He knew the elf had needed time alone to think or rest, depending on the truth of Legolas' earlier statement.

"Is the sea longing worse, mellon nin?"

"No, it is actually better now that my mind is occupied by other matters. Although I suppose that if these matters are circling around Morgoth himself, the situation is no better." Shivers went up their spines as Legolas pronounced His name.

"I must admit the council was not very inspiring... Perhaps we all need time to process the fact that we might need to fight against an enemy that had to be defeated by the Valar themselves." Proposed the king of men.

"We do not have any army that can be but compared to the armies of old, Aragorn... Those that stood only a slight chance against Him." Legolas stated.

"You are right... But we will find a way, we must do so."

"Valwen seemed to think it is possible for us to avoid this doom." The elf answered.

"She did." Aragorn answered with a barely contained smile of pride towards his daughter.

A small laugh escaped the elf's lips as he saw his friend's face. Fatherhood truly was suiting him. Aragorn bothered himself with something else as soon as he saw Legolas' reaction.

"You should be proud mellon nin," the prince started, "her words were full of wisdom... Although, I believe Arwen is the one who should be proud about this, for your wisdom has never impressed me, human." The elf declared, his voice full of sarcasm.

It was good to see Legolas smile again.

Even though the elf still seemed more tired and fragile than usual, some sort of peace had seemed to come over him. Although, something was still bothering the elf's mind, something beside the war that had been predicted by Valwen.

"You have changed in the last days..." The human said, " what has-"

"Was there any reason you came?" The elf interrupted, clearly trying to change the subject.

Aragorn would not press the issue for now. After all, Legolas could be as peak-headed as a dwarf, which meant that the human could spend the whole night trying to know what had happened to his friend in the last days.

"Yes. The feast will be starting soon, perhaps you should get dressed properly." The human said, smiling to show how ridiculous his statement was.

Aragorn had always told his friend that even his sleeping tunic could pass as formal attire.

The human turned around, heading for the door but stopped dead in his tracks.

"Do not forget your circlet, my lord." Valar he knew how his elven friend hated showing his lordship, thinking he looked pretentious when walking around with a ring of metal that was worth more than a whole village on his head.

"Do not forget your crown, my king." Legolas replied, smirking.

* * *

"Perhaps I should wear the other one... Are you sure it is formal enough? But not too much either because I-"

"Valwen, I assure you, it is fine!" Lostariel cut her sister, not being able to hear her babble about her appearance anymore.

They had been standing in front of the mirror in her sister's room for a long time now. The younger of the two not being able to choose which dress she wanted to wear for the feast. Her hair was already done, a courtesy of Arwen herself.

"Are you certain? For this is an important gathering and there will be many kings, princes, lords, warriors-"

"Yes, I know." Lostariel said, impatience showing clearly in her voice. She never was one to pass hours in front of a mirror to look pretty. Although she possessed a natural beauty that only members of the Eldar race were gifted with.

"And do not tell me this dress fits me only because you want to liberate yourself of this task more quickly." Valwen said reproachingly, eyeing her sister who was wearing a slightly dark blue dress.

"Never would I do such a thing, _my lady_." Lostariel said laughingly, imitating the manners of a pretentious queen.

They both knew perfectly that she would.

Valwen giggled, her beautiful voice filling the room as she put her small silvery circlet on her head. Lostariel had a similar one that was already in place on her loose hair.

"Well my ladies, you look truly ravishing." The young women heard from the door. They both turned to see their brother entering the room, his muscular body fitting beautifully in his light blue tunic.

"I can say the same for you, my prince." Valwen answered, her beautiful face enlightened by a smile.

"Well brother, you can be sure that many stares will be on you tonight." Lostariel joked, amicably hitting Eldarion on the shoulder.

"I suppose all the others will be on you two." He winked. "May I accompany you to the feast my ladies?"

"Actually, someone is already accompanying me." Valwen declared, arranging her hair in the mirror. She could see the looks of surprise her brother and sister gave her in the mirror.

"And who might that be?" Eldarion asked, suspicious. He had always been protective of his sisters.

"Herumor."

Lostariel let out an audible sigh of discouragement.

"What? You should know that he has always been a good friend to me. He is kind, generous..."

"...And always has that arm of his around your waist." Lostariel cut, Eldarion nodding approvingly.

"Oh please! He has not done this in months. Besides, it was friendly and I am old enough to decide with whom and how I spend my time."

They both disapprovingly stared at her, not changing their opinions in the least.

"I'll see that when I meet him..." Eldarion declared.

"Don't you trust me?" Valwen asked mischievously. "We should go or we are going to be late."

Lostariel gave her one of her 'aren't you forgetting something' looks as she passed the doorframe.

"Herumor is waiting for me at the entrance."

"Right." Said Lostariel.

* * *

"Good evening, it's good to see you." Greeted Herumor as he took Valwen's arm in his.

"Hi." Replied Valwen with a friendly tone.

"Good evening." Said Eldarion with a slight judging in his tone.

At this moment, Herumor knew that if he was to make any sort of mistake, he would most certainly pay for it. Eldarion was a tall, muscular man, and when it came to his family, he found no shame in using his appearance as a warning.

"Well, I suppose we will see each other later." Herumor spoke, smiling at the two siblings staring at him with doubt.

Both of them remained where they were, still perplex concerning the young man's intentions.

"Bye!" Softly insisted Valwen before dragging Herumor to join the rest of her friends deeper in the great hall.

"I am definitely keeping an eye on her." Declared Eldarion.

"Good idea." Acquiesced Lostariel.

They sat at a safe distance from their sister and contemplated the scene that the great hall offered. Numerous tables were laid around the room with way more food than needed. The light of candles and chandeliers lit the room with a dim, comfortable light. Joyful music was played by a group of musicians and some people were dancing in the empty space there was in the middle of the hall. The dwarves, elves and men remained in separate parts of the room, except for one table, where the king of Gondor, the lord of the glittering caves, the lord of Ithilien and his elite team sat, speaking calmly.

* * *

"Although, lad, I really thought you would be married by this time. Seriously? No elf maiden has come to your attention? You, on the other hand must have come to the attention of many. For my part, I have found this beautiful woman in the kitchen during the night as I went to fetch a snack. She was preparing food for the next day, you see. I bumped into her as she was about to throw something away and we ended up sitting face to face, drinking pints and talking about ourselves. She has not come, unfortunately, but I would have liked you to meet her. She is lovely." Said Gimli, ceaselessly speaking of himself.

"Are you certain it was a _she_?" Legolas asked jokingly.

Gimli made a few frustrated, grunting noises before answering as if insulted.

"Of course I am! I know my people, lad! I know the difference between a man and a woman!"

Aragorn laughed silently, picking at his food.

"And can you make a difference between elf men and women?" Gimli continued to the man's amusement, "With those long hair and perfect, beardless faces! It must also be hard to tell the difference! Aye?"

"No, it is not, Gimli." Replied the elf.

"Then neither is it for us, laddy!" The dwarf exclaimed, making Aragorn and Legolas hold back a smirk.

Legolas' gaze then turned to a young woman on the other side of the room. Valwen stood, talking with her friends, looking ethereal in her light blue dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair, long cascades of dark brown strands, fell down her back amid a few delicate braids, under a circlet of silver and gold. Her slender form, carefully carved in the palest of stones, stood proudly, her arms lying by her side, showing her perfect, pale complexion. Her back partly showed by the opening in her dress, closed approximately ten inches higher than her waist. And on her waist it was that Legolas saw the arm of...

An arm on Valwen's waist.

"Who is that?" Asked the elf lord, to the confusion of his companions.

"Whom are you speaking of, Legolas?" Asked Aragorn, aware of his friend's seriousness.

"The boy beside Valwen, who is he?" Legolas clarified.

"It must be one of her friends, she invited them." Answered the king, still not understanding the elf's sudden concern.

"Then why is he holding her waist?" The blond haired elf interrogated.

"He is probably- _What_?!" Aragorn searched through the room, his gaze frantically seeking for the sight of his beloved daughter.

He then turned to Legolas with alarm as the elf still observed the princess conversing with her companions.

"Are you certain of this?" The man asked, seeming ready to jump through the room and grab his child at any moment.

"Is something wrong, meleth nin?" The queen of Gondor asked as she joined, concerned by her husband's behavior.

"Someone is holding Valwen by the waist!"

Arwen let out a laugh at her husband's over protective nature. She was beautiful, as always, with the white bluish dress she was wearing and her hair tied the way they were when he had first met her.

"I would not worry Estel... She is fairly capable of making her own choices, do you not think?" She asked, smiling.

"Of course she is." He said, sounding as if he was convincing himself. "I just... I suppose I'm having difficulties seeing our youngest one grow so fast..." He laughed a little at how ridiculous he sounded.

Arwen stayed silent, taking his hand in hers and gazing at her daughter who had just laughed, probably because of a joke one of her friends had said. The Evenstar had a small mischievous smile playing at the corner of her lips. Aragorn was sure she knew something he did not... Yet again.

"If it reassures you mellon nin, I would act the same way. No, in fact, I believe I would have been worse than you are..." The former ranger heard Legolas say. The elf still had his gaze stuck on his daughter, a certain emotion Aragorn could not place filling his eyes. It seemed like anger, protectiveness mixed with something else. The fair being's hands were firmly placed on the table, as if he were a cat about to jump on its prey.

Before Aragorn could say anything, Iareth and Arthon walked in front of Legolas, both looking eager to talk.

"Who is _that_?" Arthon asked, pointing towards the man that was with Valwen with mocked disgust in his voice.

"A 'friend' of hers, apparently." Legolas answered.

"Should I throw a knife?" Demanded Iareth, her misplaced question shocking Aragorn.

"Should I throw _up_?" Arthon said, disgust plain on his features.

Legolas was about to laugh until he saw his best friend's disbelieving expression. He was probably wondering if the members of his team really were elves. After all, their behavior was often confusing.

"Shame... I truly liked her." Arthon said, winking. He then left to the table where his old team was, Iareth following him.

Arwen was laughing at her husband's face when Arthon left, the weight of his statement still hanging in the air. She moved her gaze to Legolas, seeing that he was still hatefully staring at Herumor.

"Legolas," she said, interrupting the blond elf's thoughts, "you barely know him..."

"Well I do not like him. Besides, I will always agree with Aragorn."

The queen of Gondor could not help but smile at the reactions of the two men sitting next to her.

What a pair they made.

* * *

"They're staring again!" Whispered Valwen's friend excitedly, her face shining with a shy but admiring smile.

Valwen had been speaking with her three friends for some time now. Her two female friends asking her questions about how the lords she had met were. Mostly how Legolas was... They really seemed to have some kind of addiction towards the elf lord.

"Valar did you see his eyes! I have never seen anything so blue in my whole life!" Said one of them.

She could hear Herumor chuckling next to her, his arm still around her waist. She did not know what to make of it... Surprisingly, she could face a room filled of legendary lords but she could not dare to hurt someone she loved, not knowingly. Was it love that she felt for him? She was unsure...

"Wait, Valwen," she heard Herumor's deep voice say from next to her, "Isn't that your sister... Dancing with some elf lord?"

"Oh no, that is no lord, it's Erwath... Wait-what?!" Valwen exclaimed, seeing that her cold-hearted sister was in fact dancing with a member of Legolas' elite team.

"Well, she is a lucky one." One of Valwen's friends said enviously.

* * *

"Is there a particular reason why you asked me for a dance?" Asked Lostariel as she spun with the raven-haired elf holding her.

"That would be amusement." Erwath replied, "But if you wish to cease it would not grieve me to bend to your will."

"You know you don't need poetry to address me, right? I mean, royal blood clearly doesn't mean royal language."

"My apologies, then."

"No, don't apologize..." Insisted the young half-elven.

Erwath then began complicated steps, swift and elaborate, that took her by surprise and made her stumble.

"You should pay more attention on your feet." Advised Erwath, a mocking half-smile widening his lips.

Lostariel let out a sarcastic laugh.

* * *

"Here you go Lad! Last one standing wins!" Yelled Gimli, laughing while he passed a first pint to Arthon.

The elite team had decided to join the dwarves during the feast. Many thought it was to build friendships although the elves had done this in order to know if the things Erwath and Nildë had reported about the dwarves from the council were true. Surprisingly, the team had liked the dwarves and their jovial traditions for they would not look at them strangely, despite the fact that their manners were uncommon for elves.

"I'm betting on the dwarf." Cadworon declared with his booming voice.

Helegon answered by moving his hands and showing that he rather thought Arthon would win.

"I believe Helegon is right," Nildë said shyly, "not that I wish to prove you wrong, Cadworon, but elves do not get affected by this kind of ale..."

"Perhaps we should tell Gimli." Said one of the dwarves.

"Nah, it'll be funnier this way!" Declared another, setting all the dwarves around the table in a seemingly unending laugh that was heard throughout all the room.

After a moment of watching the dwarves stuff their faces and drink, Iareth turned to Cadworon:

"Well, Erwath did find himself a pretty lady to dance with." She declared with a small smile.

"Indeed he did." The tall elf replied, "He surely is the one that came out best in all of us..."

The team had indeed lived through a lot together, losing much and many to finally live in peace. Erwath had somehow come out unscathed. Compared to the others he still had his parents, who had now departed to the undying lands and were waiting for their son to join them.

"Ah Cadworon... We're not that bad." She replied, smirking and hitting him amicably on the shoulder.

"We still have each other..."

* * *

"She does not like it."

"What?" Asked Aragorn, confused by the words of his elven friend. He had been in a dynamic discussion with Faramir when he had heard the former prince speak.

"Valwen, she does not like it."

"Does not like what?" He followed his friend's gaze to see that the elf was still eyeing Herumor, who had his arm at the same place where it was earlier.

"You are still looking at them?! Legolas, she is smiling, everything is fine."

"Some people smile on their death bed." The elf replied curtly.

Aragorn was truly taken aback by the answer.

"Legolas... Valwen is a strong woman, you have seen so earlier. If she was uncomfortable, she would tell him." He explained calmly, not believing that this had occupied his friend's mind for quite some time.

"But she will not. She probably does not wish to hurt him." The elf explained, looking as if he was pondering something.

"Are you certain?" The human asked, suddenly worried. He trusted Legolas with his life and so he would never question his friend's instinct about such a simple matter.

"Certain."

Aragorn started to rise from his chair, his protective instincts taking over his tall body.

"I will go tell him what the king of Gondor thinks of his mann-"

"Do not, I have an idea that won't embarrass her in front of him."

Before Aragorn could ask a question, Legolas had risen from his chair and had started to walk towards Valwen and her friends. The former ranger could see two girls giggling excitedly in the group when they saw the fair blond prince approach.

"Pardon me for interrupting my ladies," he bowed his head, which was adorned with a delicate circlet to show his lordship, "and my lord." He bowed to Herumor. "May I borrow princess Valwen for a dance?" He asked, showing one of his most charming smiles.

Herumor was about to answer when Valwen did so herself, her arm already entangled in Legolas'.

"Of course," she declared in her smooth voice, "it would be my pleasure." She looked right in Legolas eyes, her gaze holding tenderness the warrior had not seen in a long time.

He felt as if the young princess could see in his very soul, could see every hurt and trouble he had hidden for so long. He should have been feeling intruded...

He accompanied her to the dancing floor and could see a smile of relief on her face as she was taken away from her friends for some time. Intriguingly she seemed to enjoy the company of many others for only a certain amount of time.

The music was now slower, the night being well advanced as the light of Ithil shone through the windows. Their movements were losing speed and synchronized as their bodies followed the melody on their own. Years of practice as lord and princess showed in the way they moved in a flawless waltz, like water upon the sand had for thousands of years. Her dress was flying around her as he made her spin, reminding him of a flower in full bloom under the warm caress of spring. She was laughing, he noticed. And for a split second, her melody drowned thus of the sea.

The music slowed again after a faster rhythm where he had made her turn around until she had nearly fell in his arms, provoking laughs from each of them when he had to lift her in the air to follow the choreography.

"I believed I saved you from a moment you dreaded." Legolas declared as they waltzed slowly.

"I must admit you did..." She smiled guiltily," It is not that I do not like him, I do but..."

"...Not the way he would want you to." He finished.

"Exactly."

He spun her around again, slowly, following the rhythm of the music.

"You know you don't have to call him 'my lord'. He is a servant's son, it runs in his family." Explained Valwen.

"What am I to call him, then?" The elf lord asked.

"Herumor. Call him Herumor"

"Herumor it is." Legolas confirmed, "Your friends will not quit staring, will they?"

"No, they won't." The young woman smiled.

* * *

"Beat _that_!" Arthon yelled as he slammed the mug against the table.

The dwarf beside him was desperately attempting to keep up with he elf's ceaseless drinking, afraid to lose his reputation as a good drinker. Suddenly, while draining his gigantic cup, his eyes closed and he dropped his mug, falling backwards.

"Victory!" Screamed the elf in triumph.

The other members stared in discouragement, knowing that such alcohol barely had any effect on the Eldar. The dwarves accompanying the losing drinker helped him to his feet and sat him on a chair, unable to do more to improve his condition.

"Victory to the undying!" Arthon kept cheering as the jealous dwarves and desperate elite team stared.

Two dwarves Arthon had now beaten at their favorite game.

"That is it! He is definitely cheating! Let us play amongst ourselves!" One of the short beings surrendered, leaving with his companions.

"Well, that was fun." Said Arthon, standing from his chair.

"Of course. Playing drinking games with dwarves. Hilarious." Iareth commented sarcastically.

"Wait. Is that... Legolas?" Asked Caworon, his tall figure facing the dance floor.

All turned towards where Cadworon's brown eyes were directed and observed, speechless, as their leader danced with the princess of Gondor.

"Why not, huh?" Said Arthon laughingly. "We should go with him." He then suggested.

They all stared at him, visibly refusing, except for Nildë, who's gaze was at his feet.

"Come on, Nildë, let us dance." Arthon invited, gripping his hand.

He dragged the resistant elf to the floor and forced him into a waltz, Nildë as tensed as a bowstring.

"I do not think this is a good idea, Arthon. You have just drunk a lot and... And the song is nearly over anyways... We should go join the others again..."

"No," Interrupted the triumphant dancer, " _they_ should join _us_ "

Nildë looked around, remarking the stares laid on them. Arthon had always been effective at drawing attention, to the horror of his victim.

"Just relax. Let the music flow through you." Said the tricky elf, closing his eyes.

Thousands of years they had fought side by side. Through life, death, horror, despair... How could Nildë disappoint him now?

He would not.

The shy warrior attempted to follow his companion's steps with all ease he could manage, still feeling the heavy weight of the eyes laid on them.

"There you go!" His jovial comrade encouraged.

Dancing, both of them together, in a room full of men and dwarves, Arthon was completely mad, to Nildë's opinion. He would panic, was his friend not there to soothe him with his careless attitude.

On they went, the timid dancer desperately attempting to concentrate on the sudden hops in his steps, his comrade doing the same. Although he, for his part, was not attempting to get his mind off the stares of strangers, but rather of the confused elf he held as he spun and leaped.

Seldom would Arthon the fearless escape one's gaze.

For fearless he was considered. Never was he troubled by the presence of another, never would he worry about his absolute honesty to those he addressed. He would look into the other's eyes and speak the truth with pronounced character and would never act falsely to be loved. He proudly showed who he was, and appreciated those who had the same feeling towards him.

Nildë, in his franticness, had not realized the sudden change of behavior his friend had demonstrated.

Arthon, used to Nildë blushing and fearing, did not look deeper into his fellow fighter's cause of reaction.

On they went, silent and avoiding their thoughts, with the music filling their bodies and an unexpected excitement filling their hearts.

* * *

The music had gone to a stop between two songs as all dancers spared a moment to take their breath when Legolas heard loud steps from behind him. He heard Valwen giggle as Gimli bowed in front of her.

"My lady," he declared, "May I have the honor of dancing with you?"

"Of course master dwarf!" She declared, smiling. She took his hand as he walked her to the dancing floor again.

"Well Legolas, dwarves really do steal your girls." Iareth said while moving next to him and nudging him with her elbow.

He said nothing, his expression grim as he remembered Tauriel. He had missed her for a long time, although the pain had now seemed to abate as he stared at Valwen who was trying with all her might to hide the laughter that the way Gimli danced provoked.

"Do not be ridiculous," he said, " she is not, as you say, 'my girl'."

"I was joking." She said, as if she was reprimanding him.

"Well then... I will have to punish you, warrior." He declared, smirking.

"Wha-" before she could say more, Legolas had dragged her to the dancing floor and was now dancing with her.

It took no time for the king and queen of Gondor to join the dance, dancing in perfect unison, smiling to themselves at all times. They held close and looked fondly into each other's loving eyes, savoring every second of the magical moment they were offered.

When the music ceased, many goodbyes were voiced as the guests left to their chambers, the night growing old for those who needed rest. A big day it had been with the general council in the morning, which had clearly not ended well. The members knew there was much work yet to do.

As the room emptied, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli joined, bidding each other goodnight.

"Well, the ale has made its effect", stated Gimli, doubting his steadiness on his feet.

"Well, I believe you should sleep then," Advised Legolas, smiling at his dwarf friend.

"That, I will do, lad. Goodnight."

He tapped both of his companions on their arms and walked as straight as he could towards the door.

"My team and I are going to sit by a fire outside for the rest of the night," the elf declared before turning to his human friend, "Would you like to join us?"

Despite his slight fatigue, Aragorn nodded, living any moment he could with his long missed friend.

"Of course."

"Am I invited?" Asked Arwen, joining her husband from behind.

"Of course you are, Arwen." Legolas confirmed, a fond smile spread on his lips.

"Where are the children?" Asked Aragorn, turning to his beloved.

"They are no children, Estel." She smiled at his constant care for his son and daughters, "They went with their friends."

Aragorn held back his urge to protest and followed Legolas when he gestured towards the door.

They made their way out of the castle one after the other, going out silently into the night towards the garden. As they grew closer to the gathering, the melody of a flute came to their ears, soft and gracious. Beyond the delicate notes could be heard the merry voices of conversing elves sitting around the tiny flames caged by a circle of stones. The trio finally arrived to their destination and were welcomed by the group, or perhaps more by Arthon.

"Greetings, my lords! And lady..." He winked at Arwen as she answered with false discouragement, "How are you on this finest of fine nights?" He did not leave time for an answer before continuing, "Please have a seat, you are most welcome!"

"Thank you" Aragorn said as he sat with the others.

On the other side of the circle, Helegon sat on a rock, the end of a flute between his lips as he blew the melody into the air, his fingers dancing on the multiple holes of the instrument effortlessly.

"He is truly talented." Arwen whispered to Legolas, mesmerized by Helegon's music.

"He has been playing often since the loss of his voice..." The blond elf answered with a sad smile.

"Yeah, I suppose he found an other way to be heard, you know," Arthon elaborated, "It has been truly hard for him when his tongue was cut off in torture. I mean, drowning in your own blood is quite a shock." Arthon had not realized the music had ceased.

"So we are all glad he found something he loved to help his psychological issu-"

A flute was flung at his head before he had time to react.

"What was _that_ for?!"

Arthon rubbed his head, groaning.

"Helegon, that was not necessary." Legolas spoke wearily.

The addressed elf was staring at Arthon with murderous eyes, desiring to do more than throwing musical instruments.

"Please apologize, Arthon, that was personal information."

" No, but, I mean," Arthon protested, "It is _all_ fine. I mean, we all have are issues. For example: Iareth has been abused and we all respect that", at this point Iareth was protesting in her native tongue with conviction, "Then there is Cadworon, who cannot have a bite since his mother died, but we support him and he is still the biggest elf I have ever seen (You are not fat, do not take this wrongly)" Cadworon rose by Helegon's side, ready to bounce on the still babbling elf, "Then there is Nildë who, for some reason, has no such thing as confidence, except when he kills. But we like him how he is." Nildë shrank, his gaze lowering once more, "Then there is Legolas. I mean, he did not have any visible issue before recently. Right, he never explained what was wrong with him. What is wrong with you, Leg-"

"Enough!" Legolas cut him with authority.

Arthon was silenced as the protestations died down.

"Arthon, we spoke of this." Legolas lectured, "You know what effects your comments have on the others. Would you try avoiding them, _please_?"

Legolas was in no mood for babysitting and fortunately, the others finally acknowledged that.

A long uncomfortable silence followed, Arthon trying to redeem himself.

"Well, Erwath is fine." He said gesturing towards the disbelieving elf.

Arwen simply stared at Iareth, pity and sympathy filling her eyes. Her mother had gone through similar treatments to the hands of the orcs and, as her daughter, lady Undómiel had acknowledged the effects of such a traumatizing experience. Her mother had departed to the west after being found by her sons, which meant Arwen could only imagine what pains must weigh upon the she-elf she had set her gaze on.

"I am _truly_ sorry." Arwen spoke sincerely.

"This is why we do not talk about it Arthon.", Iareth explained, fuming.

"Alright! Sorry!" Exclaimed the hated elf in defeat, "I will not do it again!"

Despite the common disbelief resonating in each companion's mind, they put aside their anger, grateful for Arthon's desire for forgiveness.

"Well, if there is anything you need for sleep or any other, I will help you in what way I can." Offered Aragorn, his healer's instincts taking over.

"Sleep," Laughed Arthon, "Perhaps we could use some of that from time to time."

All others stared at him in annoyance, warning him of another outburst if need be.

"Well," Began the elf, "I must have issues myself as well. Like, hum..."

"You talk way too much." Iareth suggested.

"You are intruding in other's personal lives." Added Cadworon

Helegon gestured to the elf, who translated the statement.

"You are provoking."

"You do not respect the other's issues." Added Erwath.

"Alright! I've heard enough!" Arthon complained.

Seldom did the team present their appreciation for their friend, although it always was present and true, despite its subtlety. This was why Arthon never took insults too seriously. Since his welcoming in the team, he had always showed a strong personality, even in difficult or frightening situations. He was renown for his constant sense of humor and continuous babbling during stressful times.

"And I do not see any issue with any of you," fondly started Legolas, "You are fine as you are now, and I would not ask for any better. You should see the beauty of this team, Arthon."

The members smiled unconvincingly, disbelieving their leader's words.

"But it's true. Erwath is the one who turned out best." Iareth confirmed Arthon's statement.

The complimented elf stared back, not enjoying the compliment.

"What?! It _is_ true! You are fully sane, you have all your body parts, your parents still live."

"They have left." He objected.

"Well, at least you will see them again." She pointed out.

"So," Arthon interrupted, " _King Elessar_ , what about you? You clearly must have horrible stories of your own, hm?"

Taken aback, Aragorn shifted uncomfortably before offering his response.

"I suppose so..."

Excited, Arthon moved to face him.

"You have our attention." He said, determined to hear the man's tales.

"Perhaps it would be more pleasant to speak of something else." Politely offered the human, still surprised by the elf's sudden interest.

"Oh, please," The interrogator insisted, "Only one tiny little story?"

"Perhaps funny stories would be more fit for the occasion, or any occasion, Arthon." Legolas intervened.

"Alright!" He clapped his hands in eagerness.

Everyone turned towards the king with open ears, awaiting a tale to remember.

Aragorn, displeased by being the centre of attention, cleared his throat and shifted again, Arwen looking at him lovingly.

"Well, um... There was that time with Elladan and Elrohir when we were horse racing..."

"Go ahead", Arthon encouraged.

Aragorn turned to him with annoyance, disliking the pressure, before continuing.

"We were racing in the forest and Elladan decided to go foolishly fast. He turned to laugh at us but then hit a branch and fell in the mud. We laughed so hard we almost fell off our horses ourselves." Aragorn smiled at the memory.

Legolas laughed before voicing his disappointment.

"It is so unfortunate that I missed that. Truly, I would have given anything to be there." He chuckled, taming Aragorn's concern for him.

The lord still seemed to be haunted by a weariness the man hoped he never had to endure. Aragorn's concern was strong and consistent, and to see his companion show any lightness of heart and mind made him rejoice, for beyond time and distance, their friendship grew ever deeper and stronger. Nothing but happiness did the king desire for his dearest friend, which was why, when he got it, Aragorn joined him in his laughter heartedly.

Arwen softly kissed her husband before leaving the garden, a mischievous smile painted on her lips.

They were all talking and laughing around the fire when suddenly Arthon willed them all to stop, shushing them with exaggerated movements.

"What is it Arthon?" Erwath whispered, his green eyes shining in the darkness.

"Hush, don't speak." Arthon answered.

At this moment, the group heard people walking, a bit further away from them in the garden.

"Look, I truly wish I could say otherwise but... I do not return your feelings."

Arthon put his hand on his mouth, trying to contain his laughter as he recognized Valwen's voice.

"You deserve a woman that truly loves you and I cannot give you that."

Aragorn turned to Legolas, trying to seek an explanation in the elf's face. His human ears could not hear anything of the conversation that the rest of the group seemed to be so entertained about.

"She is speaking with Herumor." Legolas explained joyfully.

"And?" Aragorn whispered.

"She is telling him about the fact that his sentiments are not returned."

Aragorn's jaw dropped in disbelief as the elves continued to listen, intruding the interlocutors' privacy.

"Valwen, you cannot think this, "the young man' voice seemed desperate, "we have been friends for years, you know me better than anyone! Your... Your judgment is clouded by the fact that you danced with some renowned and legendary elf lord. But I am real Valwen, always have been and always will be."

Legolas' eyes rounded, the whole team giggling at the comment that Valwen's friend made about their lord.

"Herumor..."

"Do you remember? When you were seven and broke you arm? I carried you to the castle and I was so worried about you that I lent you my most precious toy... And when you were twelve and fought with your sister, I was there to comfort you, I was there to listen to every trouble thought you had because I care about you so much. It took me years to find the courage to tell you that I have loved you since the first moment I laid my eyes upon you... I know I might be nothing to a princess, just the son of a servant, but I would do anything for you. I'll become a warrior if you want me to, or a healer, like you. I will learn how to dance, how to behave in court... After all that I have done for you... Do you not love me?" Herumor asked, as he seemed to grow angry.

"Herumor that is not how love works... I cannot control the will of my heart." Valwen answered with a hint of sadness in her soft voice.

Arthon was smiling, clearly satisfied by how the conversation was unfolding.

"I truly wish I could tell you otherwise-" The elves heard Herumor leave the garden, satisfied smiles plastered on their faces.

Legolas also had a grin he found impossible to mask, being happy that Valwen had found the courage to tell Herumor that she did not feel the same way he did. Although, seeing the worried look on Aragorn's face tamed his joy.

"Perhaps I should talk to her..." The former ranger declared.

"I believe Arwen is already taking care of her mellon nin... I doubt that she would leave us for no reason." The elf answered reassuringly.

"Besides," started Arthon with no credibility, "heartbreak is a part of love. Anybody around this fire can confirm it."

"Let us not dwell on such depressing matters." Declared Erwath.

"Right... Says the one who accompanied the princess of Gondor in a waltz." Iareth declared, laughing at her friend's reddening face.

The concerned elf changed the subject as soon as he possibly could.

"Helegon, why do you not start a new melody? This is a night for singing."

And so their heads raised to witness the beauty of a dark sky lit by thousands of stars. Cold, distant, yet precious and pure, they grew a melody in the Eldars' hearts, bringing their voices to join the melody of the world once more, with words of their own. The ancient dialect spoke of another world, purer and greater, of a younger world, before darkness and time, before loss and decay. Thus the elves' voices grew in harmony in a dialect of their own. The verses, when translated, presented a poem of fine language, thus it went, slowly sung with serenity.

 _"There can be found beyond the sea,_

 _The bluest skies and hills of green,_

 _With walls of stone and crowns of shell,_

 _On mountain tall and sacred dell,_

 _There life thrives in trees of light,_

 _And stars glitter, pure and bright,_

 _In the blessed realm, in the great blue hid,_

 _Where upon its sand, the high boats slid,_

 _Time is not and days are one,_

 _There, in dream, the Elves have gone,_

 _For there their home forever shall lie,_

 _Hence in wait they gaze upon the sky,_

 _At the jewels of Elbereth the fair,_

 _The gift they brought from holy lair,_

 _Until their soul of wait be free,_

 _As they depart beyond the sea."_

Aragorn listened as he felt Legolas' light head on his shoulder. The elf, probably exhausted, rested comfortably on his friend's side, his features peaceful and serene. The man dared not to move, frightened of ruining his companion's moment of slumber.

Apparently, the song had not affected him the slightest.

Erwath was gazing at his lord, a small smile painted on his lips. All the members of the team looked at each other proudly, seeing that their leader was finally at peace, thanks to them.

"Well Aragorn," whispered Arthon," It seems like you will have to sleep under the stars tonight."

And he did not mind at all.

* * *

Elvish=

Mellon nin: My friend

Meleth nin: My love


	7. Pleasant Times

Authors' note: Sorry about the late update, we've been busy preparing ourselves for a Supernatural convention! Also, one of us has been busy writing a novel...But now that it is over with, we are back in the wonderful universe of Tolkien.

" _All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us_."

Gandalf the Grey

* * *

Legolas was calmly sitting on the balcony adjoined to his room, reading through letters he had received when he heard a soft knock on his door. He rose from his wooden chair and walked to the door, softly opening the door and seeing Valwen's fair face staring back at him, her grey-blue eyes seeming slightly burdened.

"Valwen?" He spoke, his soft voice seeming to soothe the princess.

"Yes, it's me again." She said with a small smile on her pale lips. "May I come in?"

"Oh yes, of course." He hurriedly answer, realizing he had not opened the door completely.

"Thank you..." She answered while Legolas moved a chair for her to sit upon while he installed himself in front of her.

"She was wearing a lilacs dress that morning, her long wavy hair falling loosely on her slim shoulders.

"For what?" He asked, his gaze wandering her face.

"Well I meant for placing a chair for me but... Thank you for last night I suppose." She said, smiling.

"It took some time for Legolas to understand that she was thanking him for the dance he had shared with her on the evening before.

"I talked to Herumor about... Well about what I told you." She suddenly seemed slightly hesitant, which was far from her confident and soft boldness. "He is angry..."

"So I have heard." He answered. "Is he troubling you?" His gaze hardened at the thought.

"She played with the fabric of her dress before meeting his gaze again.

"No... I have not seen him since, actually... I suppose it is my thoughts that are troubling me. I feel guilty for making him feel like this. He told me things, Legolas... He told me about memories that made me doubt myself in the way I have treated him..."

The blond elf's gaze softened as his being was filled with compassion. He had heard what had been said between the two of them and Legolas could not help to be surprised that Valwen had seemed so sure about herself, but had been doubting in her heart.

He knew about love that was not returned, about how love was for some a blessing but for others a curse. His times with Tauriel had taught him much of this but the grief of Thranduil had taught him even more. He had never loved after Tauriel and had no intention to in the future, especially if Morgoth had truly returned. Legolas did not want to risk losing someone he loved deeply to the darkness ever again...

He would not be able to withstand it.

Then of course, he could understand Herumor's anguish at not being loved by the woman he had dreamed of for years. What he would never understand was how the young man had not taken Valwen's feelings in account at all. He had been selfish, twisting his words in a way that made the princess of Gondor feel guilty for being unable to give him what he wished for. Legolas could see in her eyes all the pain she bore from hurting her best friend, she could not hurt someone without feeling guilty for days because of how caring her heart was, because of how devoted and caring she was about others. He took her hand in his, feeling the soft and warm touch of her pale skin on his. His blue eyes caught hers and Valwen could not tear her gaze away from all the strength, ache and compassion that was in them.

"Valwen, I understand the pain you are feeling, believe me, I do. But he has not right to make you feel this way."

He seemed to tighten the hold he had on her hand, seeking her full attention.

"But he has no right to make you feel this way. We cannot control the will of our heart, no matter if it hurts the people around us or not. If what you feel for him is not what he wants, then there is no way in which you could have told so without hurting him. But Valwen, he had no right, no right at all to make you feel guilty about something you cannot control. I understand that he might have been blinded by anger and perhaps disappointment, but he had the duty of understanding you."

His thumb caressed the top of her hand has her gaze seemed forlorn.

"Valwen, you should never let yourself be hurt by people, especially by people you love even if you are scared of the way they will react. Because if someone- if _he_ truly loved you, he would never have hurt you this way without apologizing."

"A single tear fell from her right eye and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"Now," he started, "put on some old, not princess like clothes and join me on the training fields." He declared, a small charming smile decorating his features.

"Why?" She asked, her throat slightly tightening from the emotions.

"We are going to do some archery." He smirked, his hand leaving hers.

"She found herself missing the warmth of his grasp.

* * *

"So if I understand you well lad, you wish me to help you by convincing Thorin of the importance of uniting the races?" The dwarf asked, sluggishly.

"Aragorn had invited the dwarf in his office that morning, trying to seek some help in his mission to unite the races. After all, they did not stand a chance against a Valar, especially if they could not install peace between themselves.

"Yes Gimli, and I will speak to Éomer about this matter."

"Gimli grunted, dropping his head in his hands. The drinking game might not have been his brightest idea...

"What about Legolas' lovely father?" Gimli asked. The wooden chair he was sitting on squeaked as the dwarf shifted his weight.

Aragorn stared back with a reprimanding look, expressing the need for his cooperation and the ceasing of his cheesy comments.

"I believe Legolas to be more appropriate for this task than any of us. Although I doubt the success of it. From what I have heard, he has quite a will of his own."

"And you believe Thorin will be any easier a task? Thranduil threatened him with a candle holder!" Gimli exclaimed, truly lacking motivation. "Lad, I am not sure that we can reconcile them after a recent fight and thousands of years of hatred." Gimli sighed. He even thought for a second of never drinking again.

"You did," The king noted, "Perhaps all they need is to see the possibility that you saw in Legolas. We only have to open their eyes and have them see it. This is possible, Gimli. I need you with me as we need them with each other."

"You have me, laddy. I will see what I can do for Thorin."/div

Aragorn smiled, acknowledging his friend's effort.

"Splendid. I will speak with Éomer." The man stood, a determined look on his face.

"Now?" Gimli asked in surprise.

"When else? There is no time to waste." Aragorn left, the dwarf watching tiredly.

"Alright then." He mumbled as he stood with exaggerated difficulty.

* * *

Legolas stood in wait for Valwen to return as he continued sorting through the papers on his desk. Gradually, the sound of footsteps grew in his keen ears. He recognized the gait instantly. Too heavy for an elf, too light for a man, Aragorn walked in this unique way that had no care for races, his steps confident, yet subtle as his feet went forward in long strides. And Strider his name was for decades during his days in the wild. Perhaps because of the enormous amount of steps he took, or the way he took them. Legolas had easily learned to recognize his friend's way to walk, which justified his lack of surprise when the king of Gondor came into sight. The man finally came to join his elven companion.

"Legolas, I need your help." He declared.

"What would you need me for?" Legolas asked, eager to contribute to whatever cause the human was to identify.

"Gimli and I are trying to reunite the lords from the council. Gimli went to speak to king Thorin and I was on my way to Eomer's room. I thought that you would be in the best place to speak with your father."

Legolas' eyebrows knitted in confusion as he addressed his interlocutor a questioning look.

"It would be my pleasure to speak to him, but I do not understand why you would consider me in a better place then any other."

Aragorn returned his friend's confusion instantly.

"Well... You are his son, Legolas."

Legolas understood Aragorn's reasoning. Seldom had the elf spoken of his father, and even less of his relationship with him. The father and son bond between the prince and king was practically inexistent. Legolas knew his father did not appreciate him as a son, that in a way, he was an unwanted child.

"Aragorn," Legolas explained, "I do not have that kind of bond with my father. He did not want a child."

Aragorn's face seemed to fall at the elf's statement, his grey eyes filling with sadness and empathy as he learned of his companion's struggle.

"Why have you not told me this before?" He asked, grieved by the elf lord's silence.

"Mellon nin," Legolas began reassuringly, "It has been thus since my birth. I am accustomed to this, there is no need give it any attention. Still, I will do what I can to change his mind concerning the dwarf, but I cannot guarantee my success, Aragorn. King Thorin has said things my father will surely never forgive."

"Seeing that Legolas avoided the subject of him and his father, Aragorn respected his friend's will and gave him his gratitude.

"Hannon le. Hopefully, he can be reasoned with..."

* * *

"Careful for the branch," Erwath warned as Lostariel looked back in discouragement.

"I can walk between trees, you know," She stated with slight annoyance in her voice, "I grew up here and walked on this path way before you even saw it."

"My apologies," Erwath spoke with what would seem like unease, to the woman's amusement.

"It's _fine_ , you're not _that_ annoying," she joked, her companion smiled.

"On they paced through the silent garden until they arrived under a flowering tree, the petals in a waltz to join the stone path, slowly falling in surreal quantity.

* * *

"You are dropping them way too quickly, Arthon! You will empty the tree in minutes!" Iareth whispered angrily.

"What are you talking about? It's fine! See? They emlove/em it!" Arthon argued as he released the tree's pale decorations. "You know what? We should try some bird whistles or something. Everyone likes birds."

He then began to imitate the melody of a bird as Iareth desperately attempted to silence him without being discovered, perched amongst the branches a few yards away from where Erwath and the princess were now sitting.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Asked Lostariel, suspecting the presence of some animal in the tree they were contemplating.

"Hear what?" Erwath feigned ignorance, hoping his team was not there to "improve the ambiance". Their plans usually ended with the ruining of it all.

The noise then ceased, leaving Lostariel without proof.

"Nevermind. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Erwath gave a look around, contemplating the colourful flowers blooming in the morning breeze, the leaves of the trees sheltering them from the hitting sun. He then turned to Lostariel and found himself unable to look away, to his own surprise.

Milliners of dismissing emotion, of controlling his behaviours and it was then, upon that very bench, in the garden of Gondor, that he found himself at a total loss of control.

Realizing that the elf was in a total trans-like state, the princess insisted.

"It's _beautiful_. Isn't it?"

"Oh, hem..." Erwath regained himself, "Yes, of course." He sighed, "Beautiful."

His eyes were still stuck in hers, making Lostariel doubt the meaning of the elf's statement. She turned away, ignoring whatever intentions were hidden in his words.

"Well, birds are singing."

* * *

"He needs help." Declared Arthon, considering the helplessness of the situation.

"I think he's had way enough." Remarked Iareth.

"We should make some music. Helegon, where is your flute?"

Helegon stared back, clearly illustrating his refusal.

"Arthon, I think we should give Erwath a chance..." Proposed Nildë.

"No," Arthon refused, before shifting in the branches to face the red haired elf behind him, "Helegon, either you play flute or I play myself."

Helegon remained true to his initial opinion, defying the other elf with a menacing glare.

"Do I have to take it by force? This is for Erwath, come on!"

Arthon was ordered to lower his tone as Cadworon advised him.

"Arthon, I do not think this will end well, perhaps we should leave. Erwath probably knows we are here, which might make him uncomfortable. Let us leave."

"Erwath is our friend," the mischievous friend answered, "and I will not leave my friend in such an awkward moment. If he is in love, then I will make sure everything goes smoothly."

At these words, Arthon Leant forward, snatching Helegon's flute from the elf's belt.

"Arthon!" Iareth whispered loudly, trying to catch Arthon's attention without alerting Erwath of their presence. "You do not even know how to play, you idiot!"

"I watched Helegon." He declared, smirking.

The elf then proceeded to blow in the flute way too strongly, not covering the wholes in the wood correctly. The melody was comparable to thus of a Nazgúl and birds flew away in an attempt to escape the atrocious tune.

Helegon was fuming, insulted by the way in which Arthon was metamorphosing such a beautiful instrument in an instrument of torture. The time seemed to stop as Arthon hit the flute on his hand, as if trying to correct a mistake that had taken place in the inside of the flute.

Helegon launched himself on the dolt without a second thought.

* * *

"They are indeed." Erwath answered, trying to nourish the conversation.

They were both silent, looking around them. Erwath gazed at Lostariel's face, mesmerized by the strength and beauty he found there. His heart, bold and incredibly strong-willed at the moment, urged him to respond to his feelings. Although, their recency restrained them in a way that all new feelings were denied by elves, if not to be pondered and analyzed. "Only fools rush in", most would tell. Yet, it then occurred to him, if what was declared in the council was true, then Morgoth had returned. There was no doubt that he would get rid of each and every living being on Middle Earth and if these events were to unfold, this was possibly the only time Erwath would ever have to confess to Lostariel before war could break upon the free people.

Only fools rush in, but upon imminent death, had he not the right to be? He then understood the absurdity of men in their spontaneous choices. Perhaps it was time for him to imitate the race in its strangest behaviours.

The elf then mustered his courage, turning his full body towards the princess before speaking.

"Lostariel I-"

At this moment a shrilling sound broke the air, as if some bird was victim to the cruelest torture of Mordor. It resonated everywhere in the garden, scaring all birds, beasts and confessions. The sound was a mere parody of Helegon's talent, which made Erwath realise that this could be the work of no one but Arthon.

"What is that?!" Lostariel yelled from her seat next to him.

Little did she know that the two bodies falling from the branches above them would be the answer. She cast down her eyes on the ground, seeing two elves fist fighting in the dirt, as if unaware of the renowned purity of the elves.

"Helegon, Arthon, stop this!" Erwath yelled before trying to separate them with Lostariel's aid. When the two were finally broken apart, Helegon picked up his flute from the ground, throwing Arthon a glare before leaving, his posture emanating anger.

"Well hello there Erwath!" Arthon declared, trying to look innocent. "What a coincidence, I did not expect to see you here!" He smiled sheepishly.

Lostariel smacked the elf, making all the everyone around her laugh (especially the ones hidden in the trees) before leaving, dragging Erwath behind her.

Arthon stood in the middle of the dirt path, completely stunned by what had just happened.

"Oh Arthon!" Iareth said while climbing down the tree, "Are you not a romantic?"

* * *

"Valwen, you have to lower the arrow."

"Well you have to lower your expectations!"

The blond elf laughed softly at the princess' outburst, calmingly placing her arrow correctly over the length of the bow.

"There. Now, pull the string and watch your breathing."

He watched as Valwen pulled the string of the bow, leaning on the tip of her nose as he had thought her. She held her breathing, straightening her back and contracting her stomach before letting the arrow loose.

"Did you see that?! I hit the target!" She exclaimed, overjoyed at the fact that the arrow had not flown straight into the forest this time. It was the outside ring of the target, but it was way better than what she had done at the beginning.

"Of course I did!" He answered, smiling from the excitement that decorated her face. "Congratulations. Although... Why do you not take a deep breath before releasing the string?"

"I did!"

"Valwen, that was a simple breath, not a deep one." He answered, suspicious. Surely, the she-elf had noticed... Then the realization dawned upon him.

"Are you wearing a corset?" He asked, almost worried.

"Yes, why?" Valwen replied without hesitation.

The elf seemed to tame his thoughts for a few seconds.

"You wear a- _why_?" He asked, misunderstanding the young princess' reasoning.

"Why not?", she asked in return, "Is something wrong with it?"

"Why would you need a corset?"

"What if I like a corset?" She retorted, trying to understand her interlocutor's sudden proof of emotion.

"This is bad for you," Legolas declared, overprotective, "and shooting", he added to dissipate his concern.

"Fine, i'll take it off", she casually agreed as she motioned to remove it on that very spot.

"Hem... Not here Valwen. You can change in your room. Why did you put a corset on?"

"Because it's practical!"

"Practical? You can barely breathe!"

"Barely breathe?" She repeated disbelievingly, "I can breathe just fine! Just not enough for _you_ , sir, and your high expectations concerning the lung capacity of a shooting warrior!" She spoke.

"You are not a warrior", Legolas stated with a friendly giggle.

" _Yet_ ," Valwen completed, "I'm not a warrior _yet_. And why can't I remove my corset here?"

Legolas laughed. Again. The amount of laughter the young woman generated was, well, considerable. It then came to his mind that the sea had not affected him in an impressive duration of time. His heart seemed eased out of Belegaer's grasp, his soul within reach of comfort and, perhaps, happiness. Beside his worries, he felt once more as himself, light and amazed by the beauties of the world. He came to deduce that his return to Aragorn and renewed friendship reminded him of his oath, and the cause of it. He felt hole and new, as he used to.

"Well?" Valwen insisted, "Can I change?"

"Yes, of course, I will wait for you here."

"No," She corrected, "I mean, here. My room is way too far."

Legolas, somewhat uneasy, consented to the lady's will.

"Alright, I will, hem, turn around." He did as he told as the princess shamelessly removed her corset, before tapping on the elf's shoulder to signal her readiness.

"Better?" She asked, smiling.

Legolas smiled back before confirming.

"Better."

* * *

Aragorn and Eomer were calmly sitting in the king of Edoras' room as the former ranger tried to unfold his plan, trusting that Gimli would find a way to hammer some respect and logic in Thorin's head.

"I understand it is hard to be the victim of Thranduil's insult or to be stuck in the middle of the elves and dwarves' bickering, Eomer." He took a moment to formulate his words, knowing that a slight misstep might endanger the alliances between the races even further, "But it is necessary for us to unite in order to... To have a chance at beating Morgoth."

The king of the Rohirrim seemed to flinch at the pronunciation of this accursed name. He meditated his words for a moment before his gaze met the king of men's.

"Alliances to put an end to evil, I understand. But I will not have my people judged and insulted after all they have sacrificed. I will do what I must to cooperate, but should the king of the woodland realm continue his manners, I believe our agreement to be at risk."

"I understand," Aragorn stated, slightly reassured by the king's present involvement, "We will do what we can to remedy to king Thranduil's behaviours. You must understand, though, that it is not your people he precisely targets with his words, but our race itself. He has had quite unpleasant experiences with men, Eomer. For ages he has seen men make enormous mistakes, and he is not known to be forgiving. Hopefully, he will change in this case." Aragorn sighed. On second thought, he realized the situation might be worse than expected.

* * *

"NEVER WILL I ASK ANYTHING OF ANY ELF! CERTAINLY NOT FORGIVENESS! I WOULD RATHER ROT IN ORC DUNGEONS THAN APOLOGIZE TO THAT FAITHLESS FAIRY!"

Gimli seemed to wince at king Thorin's insult as he closed the door to the yelling dwarf's room. Aragorn, walking through the corridor, met with his grimacing companion. The man looked expectantly at the door before turning to his companion with curiosity.

"Well?"

Gimli inhaled loudly.

"Well," He breathed out, "Thorin will _not_ be of any help."

Aragorn bit his lip, disappointed by the hate of the king under the mountain.

"Thank you for trying, Gimli." He smiled gratefully beside his bitterness. "We should see how Legolas is faring with his father."

He then resumed his trajectory towards the king of the woodland realm's chamber, Gimli close behind.

* * *

"Please, only try once. We need your cooperation."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, his chin raised as he stared at the dark red contents of his glass. He leaned on the left arm of his chair, his legs crossed in his usual elegant way as he held up his right hand, bearing a goblet of Dorwinion wine.

"You need my submission to your will, Legolas. And I have no interest in that."

"It is about saving this world. We need all the forces we can get."

"Thus explained, you clearly do not need my personal cooperation, but my army. That, I may consent to, if it is to be worth it, but, for the fourth time, Legolas, I will not befriend him."

"I do not ask you to befriend him, but to tolerate him." Legolas explained, losing patience. He regained composure, reminding himself of the importance with which this conversation was charged. Clearly, his time with Valwen had been far more pleasant. Had that conversation not been necessary, he would most surely have remained with her in the archery range.

"They are thieves, Legolas. They stole the heirloom of our people. I will not have them steal my time as well. There is no trust to have in them, theirs lies with the highest bidder, and should a greater amount of gold be discovered elsewhere, they will undoubtedly seek for it despite their endless riches. It is in their nature to keep whatever they find. I would not trust them with my boots, and certainly less with my life."

This would be impossible. Legolas had attempted every strategy, had exploited every aspect and advantage linked to the dwarf and elf's reconciliation. The elven king's set mind began to despair the younger elf in his attempt to build a complicity between races, a battle he had ceaselessly fought for decades without the expected success. Perhaps he was wrong. He had tried everything he knew, yes, but not what he did not. Never had he tried anger with his father before. For some time now, it had been rising in him as Thranduil found infinite ways to express his refusal, so when his voice rose as colour heated his cheeks, the attempt seemed incredibly natural.

"You would forsake the existence of this whole world for your grievance with a dwarf?! Since when do we forsake our people for a ridiculous conflict?! This is nonsense! If any of this is to be remembered, you will be known as the king who refused to contribute and lost his people because of an argument with a dwarf!"

Thranduil stood, as intimidating as ever, eyebrows knitted in anger.

"Do you truly believe it is because of a simple argument that I refuse to consent to a distrustful king's insults?! Too many times I have agreed to lose my people by their side, never again! And I will certainly not trust the son of that filthy Ironfoot! Who knows what he has inserted in his heir's mind?! I have had enough of this! The answer is no, Legolas, no! Now leave before I decide to leave all the same!"

Legolas stood, his eyes burning with fury as his gaze buried in his father's. Thranduil stared back, daring him to utter but a single word.

The young elf lord knew there was nothing else to be said or done without causing chaos. He finally overcame his anger and walked out of the room in defeat. Apparently, anger worked even less than any other procedure he had ever attempted. He would now have to share his unsuccessfulness with Aragorn and find an other way to bridge the hatred between the two kings.

As he exited the room, he nearly collided with the man himself, who was slowly walking with Gimli.

"Well?" The king of Gondor asked despite the fact that he had heard all the shouting.

"Let us say that a fight with a Balrog would have gone better than this..." He answered, discouraged by his father's behaviour. "What of Thorin and Eomer?"

"Eomer seemed opened to the idea," Began Aragorn, "if Thranduil puts an end to his ceaseless insults, of course."

"And Thorin was as cooperative as his father."

"All three of them sighed, not understanding how these leaders could be ready to put their people in danger because of old grudges against each other. It was Legolas who broke the silence first, his soft voice resonating in the corridor.

"My father did consent to have his army fight with us, if our cause is worth it."

"That is a good start." Aragorn conceded, "Although we also need his experience in war and strategies..."

"And if he cannot work with the other leaders, it will be practically useless to have his army." Gimli's gruff voice finished.

"I do know Eryn Lasgalen's army very well... If he truly cannot be reasoned with, then I may be of some help." Offered Legolas.

"And you do know the ways of your father on the battlefield, which is an advantage." Aragorn added, regaining hope.

"The Lonely mountain and the Iron hills' strategies and weaponry are proper to the people, and unknown to most of us," Gimli explained, "I cannot help you if Thorin is to be a lost cause."

The companions felt bitterness facing the possible loss. The armies of the northern dwarves possessed an incredible strength and ingenuous machinery. Furthermore, facing the most ancient Dark Lord since Creation, the forces of Gondor needed all the military strength they could muster.

The war, if things were to remain as they were, was inevitably lost.

* * *

"Why would you do something of the kind Arthon?!" Yelled Erwath as soon as he saw Arthon again.

All the team gazed at him, as they were silently sitting on the grass just outside the city, at the foot of the great wall.

"Alright, first of all, I don't see why I am the only one being blamed here." The offended elf defended himself with his air of superiority. "Second of all... You were in desperate need of help. I had never seen such an awkwardly spoken conversation before and that is truly saying something since I have been friends with Nildë for quite some time."

Erwath glared, trying to control his emotions and to clarify Arthon's vision on the situation.

"Listen, I truly appreciate all of you trying to help me, but this is something I wish to do on my own, no matter how 'awkward' it gets, as Arthon says."

"The whole team nodded in understanding, except for Arthon who scuffed and rolled his eyes.

"Although, you have to admit the petals were a nice touch." Iareth said, smirking. "I mean all women love the 'romantic mood' it brings." She leaned on the wall of the city, finding support on the enormous pale stone.

"Of course, because you know about romance." Argued Erwath, his voice slightly heated with anger. Iareth's features contorted in insult, "Anyways, please let me do this on my own. I can take perfect care of myse-"

At this very moment, a dark brown, stinky substance fell from the sky and drowned the team whole, to their surprise and evident disgust.

"Is that horse feces?" Cadworon asked, struggling to keep whatever food he had down.

As the team frantically attempted to remove as much of the repelling material, they heard teo voices bursting into loud laughter, confirming that their unhappiness did not come from the clouds.

Arthon raised his gaze to the source of the sound, his face imprinted with frustration under a mask of brown muck.

"Elladan?! Elrohir?! You hateful orcs!" He yelled, recognizing the faces from an earlier meeting.

"The sound of footsteps on the stone path of the wall shrank quickly, the laughter following closely.

"Well, that's it then." Arthon declared in resignation.

"That's what?" Iareth asked as others moaned in disgust and gagged.

"They have declared war." He voiced, a malicious smirk spreading on his dirty lips.

* * *

King Thranduil of the woodland realm was calmly pouring himself a glass of Dorwinion when, to his great annoyance yet again, a knock was heard on his door. At first, he made no noise hoping that the intruder would believe the chambers to be empty.

"I know you are here Thranduil."

"Valwen? For the valar's sake, a conversation about the dwarves and now this bickering child.

"He rose from his seat next to the window and slightly opened the door, leaving just enough space to see her face, but not for her to get inside.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice cutting through the air like knife in butter.

"Merely a few minutes of your time, my king." The princess answered, her smile a great contrast to the king's scowling expression.

"She then pushed the door with all her strength, surprising the elven king and nearly hitting him in the process. She then stood in the middle of the room, gazing around.

The king took a steadying breath before declaring:

"I gave you no right to-"

"Your bed looks truly comfortable. Should we sit?" She proposed, her voice still light.

"Get out."

"I don't think so. Actually, I came here for a reason..."

"Get out before I take care of it for you."

"This is much bigger than you think, and much bigger than yourself. Now please let me finish and then you may do whatever you wish to. You can kick me out, return to Eryn Lasgalen, but please, let me speak first.

"You have five minutes." The elven king spoke blankly.

"You will keep a neutral position concerning the dwarves. You will tolerate them silently and will fight by their side." Valwen simply declared as if stating a fact.

"What mad reasoning makes you think that, young lady?" Thranduil asked, staring with intensity.

"Surprisingly, the princess matched his gaze, unbothered by his menacing presence. The king of the woodland realm noticed the woman's determination and carelessness for his manners and stature, to his grand annoyance. Valwen's eyes seemed to dig to the very depts of his soul, discovering secrets he had kept to himself since their birth, and would keep them that way for the rest of his existence. The lady facing her was intrusive, incredibly nosy to the king's opinion. Those people he hated most, for his thoughts, hurts and joys were his own, never to be shared or revealed.

And there she was, seeming to read him like an open book, finding in his eyes the truths he had buried for thousands of years.

"The king looked away, eager for the maiden to leave.

"I think you will do it because I know you, Thranduil. More than anyone on this earth. And I also know there are things you have been too blind to see."

* * *

The tree hunters were calmly chatting on the balcony in front of the white tree when Thranduil arrived, surprising them all.

"I will do it

* * *

Elvish

Hannon le: Thank you


	8. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

"You will do it?" Echoed the young elf lord as if confirming that fish could fly.

"Yes, Legolas, please do not make me change my mind."

The king seemed to disagree with himself, a higher purpose being his only motivation.

Aragorn's reaction, delayed by pure surprise, cut the short silence that ensued the morose elf's statement. He smiled sincerely, eyes meeting Thranduil's with gratitude and hope.

"That is endlessly appreciated, my king Thranduil. Gondor stands in your debts." Aragorn resisted the urge to hold out his hand, knowing his manner would be openly rejected by the Eldar facing him.

"What is it that changed your mind?" Legolas asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"That," Thranduil turned to him with annoyance, "does not concern you. Now if you will please excuse me, I need a drink." He stepped between the two companions, his pace progressing through the corridor, leaving behind the sharp sound of his solid heels.

"I cannot believe it," Legolas stated, his gaze still where his father had last been, "An hour ago, he was so convinced I thought he would murder Thorin. Aragorn, I have seen one person alone ever able to change my father's mind." A familiar heartache grew within the elf at the memory of his mother, perhaps the only being that managed to be more peak-headed than the king of Eryn Lasgalen. Legolas could recall many a conflict, those moments of pure contrast between his parents, when they shamelessly spoke their contrary opinions and yet filled their words with true appreciation for one another. Often, the queen's mind would reason the king's, which only she had managed during her husband's rule. No other could deceive the hard set convictions of the monarch, not even his own son.

"Well," Aragorn voiced, regaining motivation, "One lord to go."

* * *

"No. That is _not_ how you do it, Erwath. You're supposed to be gentle. Just peel away the skin slowly. Why are you so nervous?"

The elf, facing the dead deer, knife at the ready, simply stared at the dead animal, his mouth dry and his hands unsteady.

"It is dead, Lostariel. Dead. And I am about to skin it."

"Oh, come on! We do this all of the time," Erwath stared at her with horror after her declaration. The young woman grabbed the blade, moving her companion aside, "See," she began to explain, her actions matching her words, "If you have the right angle, you just slide that way slowly..."

"May we do something else?" Erwath asked, absolutely traumatized.

"Please. After all the corpses that passed before your eyes, after all the corpses you put to the ground. It's not some deer that will make you give up, is it?"

At her statement, Erwarth's expression changed into a deep thoughtful visage, his eyes seeming to reflect the millenia he had lived in a world of war and death. Seldom it was that Erwarth's sense of long life could be perceivable, for such are elves, light hearted and of pure, sudden wisdom. Yet, in this moment, a history of suffering and despair seemed to invade the elf's being as he answered, staring into the void.

"It is not the same, Lostariel."

Suddenly, under the princess' stare, a warrior emerged from the enlightening being she had only seen as a new friend. The acknowledgement of his past planted within her a growing feeling of compassion.

"I'm sorry," she murmured looking in his eyes.

Erwarth pushed away the feeling, enlightening his features consciously in an attempt to dissipate his companion's guilt.

"It is alright, Lostariel. You have no need to apologise." He stared back at the animal, containing his disgust, "You are probably right, although we never involve animals or any gifts of Yavanna in our battles. The gift that the Valar intended for us is to remain unharmed if it can."

"That sounds nice," Lostariel smiled, "Although, I'm sure you need to eat from time to time. So, this is what we eat here: meat. If you want to live here, you might as well get used to it now."

Erwath wondered about what the woman facing him meant by "live here". Albeit, being of a silently deducing kind, he did not voice his interrogation. He simply stared and desperately attempted to restrain his revulsion as the king's daughter resumed her skinning, explaining her actions as she did them.

At a certain point, Erwarth's stare left the carcass to land on the one treating it. His gaze shifted from rosy cheeks, to grey orbs as if filled with a cloudy sky, to lips of a reddish pink moving to express the thoughts of a young, bold mind that Erwath suddenly desired to explore. For a time he did not count, he simply stared, endeavouring to decrypt the signals of his elderly heart.

* * *

"Come on, you can't leave the rope there, they'll _see_ it, Nildë!"

The shy elf, standing before the door leading to the lords of Rivendell's room considered Arthon's comment as seriously as he could, despite his total lack of interest. In desire of revenge for the previous prank the twins had made, Arthon had dragged Nildë into his "mighty" project, in which the helping elf had no desire of being involved.

"We should hide it under the bench or something..." Voiced the vengeful elf thoughtfully.

"Arthon, " Nildë attempted to reason, "You do realize that, if we do prank them, they will keep pranking us back."

The addressed elf scorned, eyeing his interlocutor.

"Well, _of course_! It's a prank war!"

"I don't think it's a good idea..." Nildë spoke in worry.

"You always say that, and it actually always turns out _great_. Trust me on this."

The doubtful elf wondered silently at his companion's request, recalling the times he had made the mistake of putting his confidence into the sassiest elf in Middle-Earth.

Arthon bent down and grabbed the rope, hiding it under the seat by the door.

"There we go! Now we just have to get them here..." The elf declared maliciously, rubbing his hands together, "Get in position, Nildë."

Seriousness clearly was something Arthon lacked.

Obeying, the disagreeing partner entered the room and exited by the window, readying a box and holding a thread, ready to pull and reveal its contents.

"Perfect," Arthon commented, following his words by an evil laugh, "Wait for me here."

He then ran through the corridor, seeking the sons of Elrond. They were in a casual conversation in front of the castle and, as planned, he found Cadworon a few yards away, contemplating the landscape. Arthon walked to him, complimenting himself for the perfect functioning of his plan.

"Hey Cadworon," he called, loud enough for Elladan and Elrohir to ear, "You won't believe what I did to the twins' room! It's awful, seriously. When they'll get in _there_..."

He smirked when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the concerned elves exchange a suspicious glance before striding back into the castle with terrible speed. Amazingly satisfied, Arthon followed subtly, laughing as silently as possible.

"What did he do?" He heard from afar, which widened his lips to a even more important extent. As they opened the door to their room, Arthon ran for the rope and knotted it to the bench, locking the brothers inside. Nildë, upon seeing the twins entering, pulled the thread, removing the lid.

An endless flow of bees escaped the darkness of the container and swarmed into the room, swallowing the forms of the two pranked elves as Nildë closed the window and ran to join Arthon.

Arthon's mischievous laughter echoed in the corridors as the loud voices of the trapped elves emerged from the chaotic buzz of the bees.

"It worked!" Arthon exclaimed as his partner in crime arrived.

Suddenly, Nildë's gaze shifted to the door as his eyebrow knitted in confusion.

"Arthon... They are not screaming." He stated as the elf facing him turned to look at him in confusion, "They are laughing."

Frozen for a few second, Arthon stared in disbelief, the idea of defeat building his growing frustration. He then unmade the knot holding the door and burst inside the bedroom, only to find two elves on the ground, clutching their sides as tears of laughter rose from the corner of their eyes.

Elladan turned to him and managed only two words through his cackling.

"Bees? Seriously?"

Both twins laughed even harder as the bees simply flew by, unbothered by the immortal beings.

"I'm not finished with you two." Arthon declared, stepping out of the room in unconvincing anger, followed by Nildë.

"What now?" The timid companion asked, attempting to cover the cachinnate still emerging from where screams were expected.

"We make a new plan." Arthon declared, already gathering what evil design came to his mind.

* * *

"He did _what_?" Gimli asked, his gruff voice tainted by surprise.

"Thranduil accepted, Gimli." Aragorn repeated, matching the excitement slowly building in the dwarf's eyes.

"I thought he had said no." The lord of the glittering caves wondered, fingering his beard.

"Indeed he had," Legolas confirmed before continuing, "Although, apparently, something made him change his mind."

Satisfaction coloured the Nauglir's features.

"Well, that is good news indeed. Yet we still have one lord to take care of."

A silence filled the room as the three hunters attempted to find a solution to king Thorin's stubbornness, without success. It was well known that a dwarf's heart is arduously persuaded.

"Well," Aragorn began, "I will do what I can meanwhile. Hopefully, he will change his mind before-" Aragorn cut himself, a shadow lingering in his eyes, "Before anything comes to pass."

The companions parted to treat other matters of their own. Aragorn headed for the nearest way outside he could recall, pacing slowly out of the room, his gaze still caught in the mist of dark emotions.

Seventy years, a man's lifetime he had dedicated to oppose the foe of Middle-Earth. The weight of loss, death, pain and despair still clung to his mind and heart as, he knew, it still had a solid grasp upon his companions'. Together, they had paid a solid price to see the dark days come to an end.

But they were wrong.

Dark times they were about to live yet again, and Aragorn feared. In earlier years, his decisions were a source of consequences for he and his pairs only, him being a simple ranger of the north, a sole traveller of Arnor. But the crown that was deposed upon his head decades ago now spoke otherwise. A single word, a tiny wave of his hand could define the destiny of men, in victory or defeat. The threat that grew outside of their sight was an elder strength, a power well beyond their own, albeit all the alliances that had been made.

One mistake, one unreasoned thought, that was all it took to have the free peoples of Middle-Earth fall into darkness, one silly error was necessary to undo the works of centuries, millennia of war and death, of ceaseless battle and sacrifice.

Aragorn finally stepped under the sun, drawing in a deep breath from the refreshing wind that flowed through the peaks of the southern mountains of Middle-Earth, wondering where the current of the air could carry him.

Once again, he thought of a free life in a free world, of his feet stepping through safe, pure wilderness, untouched by foes with dark desires, unharmed by battles that had come to pass. His heart suddenly felt lighter, younger. No bigger threat there would be than the cold and hunger, as all would live as one in the world they loved.

"Ada?" The king heard from close behind him.

He turned from the view of the city and its lengthening shadows to meet Valwen's gaze. As she observed the gaze of her father betray his smile, her heart filled with understanding, her gaze smoothening before she stepped forward, grabbing the man's hand.

The young woman's sense to perceive the wills and hurts of one's heart seemed to constantly amaze the Dúnadan, even though it had been years since she had first proved her enhanced sight.

They both turned to the lands beyond, side by side, Valwen leaning her head on Aragorn's shoulder. The king then turned an laid a kiss on her forehead.

"Hérincë nin." Aragorn whispered affectionately.

Valwen smiled at the use of her childhood nickname. Hopefully, she would bring what happiness her father needed. The princess of Gondor worried about the king, she worried about the longing in his heart. Yet, she knew the king of men's strength, and had faith in it.

And in him.

* * *

The lord of Ithilien sat at his desk as the light of Anar descended to the west, filling what papers required his attention. His keen eyes passed over letter and document with remarkable speed, his swift hands occasionally caressing the paper with ink where his approbation was needed.

For once in what seemed like a very long time, Legolas' mind was untroubled by the melody echoing from the blue waters. His heart, lighter than before sought for the cause of his sudden comfort. The longing of the sea seldom, if not never, lessened its grasp on the Eldar's heart.

And yet it had.

Legolas was free of his inevitable destiny. Once again, he was satisfied by the world in which he came to be, the world he had for so long cherished for its splendour, its simplicity coexisting with an incomprehendable complexity. Long it had been since he was last filled with such wonder for the branches of trees, the warm caress of Arien's astre, the flowing of streams where elk and deer satisfied their thirst.

His heart was somewhat reborn, and he felt as if he had awakened from troubled sleep, to have the sun shining on a new day of hope and possibility. He had faith in his people, in the people with whom he shared this world. The Darkness felt like an old memory, a hostile recollection of a shadowy past.

Although it was now a future.

Legolas knew little of what may come, only the echo of the horrified people in earlier ages, stories of a dark force: the greatest of all.

And yet, even before the very idea of Morgoth's return, Legolas saw his will renewed, his determination growing at the idea of the tasks ahead, his mind cleared and active, at the ready for action.

He felt like a warrior once more.

Perhaps it was what he needed. The necessity of his well-being in dark times had been his motivation for millennia, and perhaps a return to old habits would help him return to his ressources, to himself. Maybe it was that what he longed for simply was-

"Sorry, it's me." Valwen's melodic voice filled the room, her head peeking through the doorway.

"Oh, no problem. Please, come in." Legolas welcomed, gesturing towards an armchair that sat in the corner of the room, beside his desk.

The lady slowly walked to the seat and delicately let her weight rest on the pillowed surfrace, a solemn smile decorating her soft features.

"King Thranduil accepted to help us." Legolas announced, which merited a strange shift in Valwen's eyes.

"So I heard." She answered, a light smirk curving her lips.

A long silence followed, in which neither felt uncomfortable. Silence never was a source of awkwardness for elves, and it certainly was not for Valwen.

Legolas simply stared for a few moments, before shifting his gaze to avoid questioning from the lady before him. When his focus left her, Valwen's eyes landed on the lord of Ithilien as she observed a change in his heart.

"You don't feel it anymore." She simply stated as a realization.

Legolas' piercing look turned to meet his interlocutor's, a questioning expression invading them as his brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?" He asked, unable to decrypt the meaning behind her words.

"The sea," She explained, "Its call doesn't affect you anymore."

Surprised, Legolas shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Perhaps Valwen was one of the only people able to make Legolas Greenleaf uncomfortable.

"How do you know that?" He questioned, feeling awfully exposed.

The royal maiden of Gondor smiled sincerely.

"That does not happen very often, does it? The sea longing simply disappearing like that."

Legolas nodded, his eyes lowering to the papers on his desk. He recalled his first meeting with Valwen and felt somewhat naked about the situation, as if she had seen a part of him he preferred to keep personal. Yet, he thought, she probably saw more of him, and of anybody for the matter, than he thought she had.

The impression of discomfort faded away and, for some unknown reason, when he stared into her eyes, he felt safe. Suddenly, it was as if all worry or history of mistrust in Legolas' past had no meaning, as if her eyes were the one thing to be, everything that there ever was. His heart, before this greatest sight of all, felt liberated, light, unburdened by thousands of years upon this earth.

Time was not in Valwen's eyes. He could see his tiny fingers reaching for his toy in his mother's arms, as he could see himself in a world that he would never know. He could feel his shoulders shake in uncontrollable laughter, and his eyes swell up in deep hurt. He could see trees grow and shrink back to simple seeds. He could smell the fresh smell of a northern wind blowing through his hair as he stood upon the mountain's side, as he could have the warm odour of a fireplace on a winter's night. He could reach out and grab the sun, or kneel and reach to the bottom of the earth. He could remember and forget, listen and ignore, hope and despair at the same time. The secret of it all was in her eyes.

Perhaps she was the reason to his being free of the sea. Maybe it was that the lady was so strong it drew his heart away from Belegaer and towards her own.

For this once he let his eyes linger on the lady as he wished, ignoring his mind that begged to turn away. Expecting the daughter of his best friend to ignore the behavior, the lord of Ithilien was surprised to see her simply staring back, matching the intensity of his gaze.

He was fascinated. Seldom did he share such a long eye contact with any, either because of the intimidating nature of his eyes or the urgency of the moment. One person before had done as Valwen did, and it was her mother.

Legolas saw lady Undómiel in the person facing him. He saw her serenity, her care for growing things, her delicate manners full of compassion. He also saw the strength and might of the king of Gondor. His constantly reasoning gaze, his precise gestures, his endless hope. Although, something else resulted from Legolas' contemplation. Something completely new, not only to him, but to all. Being in Valwen's presence installed a different sensation than anything he had ever experienced in his immortal life. She felt divine and simple, the controversy constantly amazing him upon every sight, the elaborate, yet obvious nature of the being facing him quickly becoming impossible to ignore.

"You know, I never quite got to show you the garden", she casually stated, "Last time I tried, it didn't end too well. Would you like to try again?"

Thus they went through the stone paths of the city of Minas Tirith to its haven of thriving life, the air there tainted with the various perfumes of flowers and trees. There, both lady and lord found ultimate peace and comfort, for they were in great proximity with living things. In these environnements, the song of Yavanna eased and relieved their hearts with the purity of her creation.

As they walked through the various plantations, Legolas caught a familiar scent. It reminded him of a rising sun brightening the fresh air of spring, the awakening after heavy sleep, the breath of the wind after wandering in the dark depths of the world. He instantly identified the smell as that of the athelas plant, before his eyes met the sight of the small, delicate white flowers amidst a mass of tiny green leaves, recalling Aragorn's demand to plant them abundantly for their healing properties. He smiled at the memory of Aragorn asking an old healer for athelas, the arguing man telling each of its names without proving to be of any productivity. Aragorn, losing patience, had told him to call it however he wished, as long as he brought it as he was asked to. Few people knew of the unique properties of the Kingsfoil. It was mostly known as an old plant for stomach aches or other minor ailments, when its very smell, when boiled, could arouse the spirit and lessen the effect of the dark forces upon mind and heart.

Legolas reached down and traced his fingers over the green sea dotted by petaled stars as he replayed the memory in his mind, Valwen simply glancing around with her usual smile spreading her thin lips.

"You know, you could come here more often," She stated, "It would clearly do you no harm."

Legolas turned to look upon her once more, an agreeing grin spreading his lips. He then glanced around, heeding the beauty of his surroundings.

"Perhaps you're right." He conceded.

He gently stood, raising his head to the zenith of the trees, as if searching for something Valwen could not identify. Suddenly, he leapt forward, and in a few strides reached a full grown trunk. He reached for a branch and pulled himself upwards with incredible ease, ascending as he had done for thousands of years with an agility that amazed the lady of Gondor, albeit the stories she had heard concerning the lord of Ithilien. Even after all the amazing prowesses of the elf, he still could surprise those who knew of his various skills in different domains.

As he reached the thinnest branches that could support his weight, Legolas gazed down at the baffled daughter of Aragorn, his grin widening.

"Would you like to join?" He simply asked, the northern wind blowing in his light hair.

Valwen slowly walked to the tree, examining the branches with an unsure expression, although the son of Thranduil knew fully well that she possessed the capacity to reach him. He simply waited as she evaluated what path she could use.

She finally climbed up. At a much slower rate, yet with solidity. She rose to his side as he smiled, turning towards the sun. They both contemplated the landscape in comfortable silence, breathing in the fresh breeze that flowed through the mountains.

Legolas looked upon the world with such a depth in his eyes that even Valwen found it difficult to reveal. It seemed as if a weighful thought was pressing his heart, and old feeling wearily returning in the spirit of the immortal with an accustomed easiness. Unable to unveil the core of his heart, the lady voiced her interrogation.

"What are you thinking about?"

He turned to her for a moment, before his gaze shifted back to the wide lands that laid before them.

"For ages, numerous generations have fought ceaselessly for these lands. They have lost the ones they loved, their lives... Yet, never was this world truly safe. Its beauty, its peace, they are constantly a cause in battle, Valwen. I simply wonder if one day, we will be able to look upon this world without the fear of losing it."

Legolas' grave expression seemed to reach Valwen's understanding and she sat closer, gazing abroad.

"I understand."

And she truly did. A depth in her voice confirmed the truth in her words. The lady of Gondor was far sighted indeed, but her heart also could reach beyond her, and into the ones that surrounded her and needed compassion.

Perhaps, Legolas thought, they had a chance with a being such as Valwen.

* * *

 _The smell of blood reeked in his anticipation, for blood he had long craved in his eternal wait. Time he was stolen when cast beyond the door of night, yet none of it did he waste. In his captivity his wonders of revenge thrived and found shape._

 _He would not reproduce his previous mistakes, never again._

 _For now, all possible alternatives were already existing in his old mind, and remedied to._

 _His brethren would see their one creation crumble into an eternal darkness beyond their reach, and they would plea, beg for forgiveness._

 _But he would not heed them._

Ai brother, thou hast not seen true horror yet. In an other time have I insulted and hurt our father's conceptions, but never were they torn apart before thy powerless self. Thou shalt watch life in its ultimate defeat, sibling of the air.

 _The screeching sounds that grew behind filled him with a reviving twisted pleasure._

 _How he relished when things were no more._

* * *

The calm voices echoed through the spacious throne room of Minas Tirith as the matters of citizens were discussed before the king. To remind his people of the equality amongst all men including himself, the founder of the house Telcontar had proposed to organize a session where the people of the city could personally address the king on matters that required his attention. So there he sat upon his throne, helping them in what way he could, sometimes having the visit of old companions of war.

In the greatest hall of men then stood an old woman, small among the great statues of the kings of old, her unexpectedly steady voice resonating on the high pillars of pale stone.

"Thank you my lord, That filthy Denethor never knew what it was like to live alone in a city when you were an old lady and you had a grandson to take care of." She explained, her voice tainted with disgust for the last Steward, "Not really smart, that man. Let me tell you I would have done things differently."

"Many would say the same." Aragorn agreed, smiling at the woman's pronounced attitude.

"And, by the way, I- we don't want to bother you really. Don't take us wrong, we truly like you and we are glad you took that other moron's place on that bloody throne, but people are beginning to, well... Talk. You know, you have seemed worried in the last days (not that we were stalking or anything, it's just my grandson, he's a member of the guard) and there were elves and dwarves walking around in a way that looked quite official. Not to spread rumors or anything, it's just that we would like to know what's going on, if you understand."

The king's eyes, though his lips remained in a soft smile, seemed to darken.

"Everything is under control, madam. There are simply times that require more strength, but do not worry." The king reassured, concentrating what truth he could muster in a comforting stare.

Which did not result as intended.

"Do you think you can fool me, young man?", the woman erupted insult, "I wasn't born last night! Now you might be older than me, but I know more about a man's lies than you do about yours! I've been married with the same kind of man as you! The kind of man that keeps all his little secrets and makes everything look like sunshine and pretty flowers, and you know what? That got me widowed! Artilir felt strange for weeks and told me nothing: well he was sick, as I found out after his death!"

Legolas then entered the room, slightly alarmed by the tone that was used on his companion. The old lady turned towards the lord of Ihtilien, her expression changing.

"Well you are one pretty piece of meat." She commented, "Now would _you_ mind enlightening us on what is happening, people are getting curious."

Legolas' gaze shifted to Aragorn, who seemed just as confused.

"Fine," she broke the silence, giving in, to both elf and man's relief, "But you _will_ have to talk at one point or another. No secret is secret." She sighed, and turned to leave as another man entered, a cloak covering his face.

"Good evening," Aragorn greeted, unsure of the man's purpose behind concealing his identity.

As if to reassure the king's sudden doubt, the stranger pushed his hood back, revealing his decorated hair and dark skin, a look of terror contorting his southern traits.

"I do not have much time my king," he quickly said as if he was to be taken any second, stepping forward.

The guards barred him the way to the stairs leading to the throne and he ceased his progression towards the monarch, although without lessening his urgency.

"He has conquered Harad. There is no more to be done. Men will follow him or else they will watch their families die. He has convinced our leader-" He then interrupted himself, as if expecting to receive a blow. Aragorn stood at his words, an alarmed expression accompanying the question in his eyes.

"Whom? Whom took control over your people?" He asked in distress.

The man took a deep breath as if he was about to jump into a wrathful fire, and blew out the word as a curse, the curse of man itself:

"Morgoth." He murmured, as if his doom was sealed by his treachery, "I thought you would need to know."

He unsheathed his knife and, as if he had rehearsed and well meditated this last act, he buried the blade into his gut with trembling hands, his breath quick and interrupted by desperate sobs. He fell to his knees as blood spread on the fabric of his tunic. He closed his eyes as the liquid rose through his lips and he fell to the floor, the red water of his veins pooling on the white stone in an ultimate sacrifice for his people.

Elvish

Hérincë nin: my little lady


End file.
